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EVENTS    IN   THE   SCHOOL-LIFE   OF    DMITRI   TERENTIEFF. 


SCHOOLBOY    DAYS 

IN    RUSSIA 


BY 


ANDRE    LAURIE, 


TRANSLATED    BY    LAURA    E.   KENDALL 


BOSTON 
ESTES    AND    LAURIAT 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1892, 
BY  ESTES  AND  LAURIAT. 


3Snttoraitg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    A  CRUSHING  BLOW 9 

II.    RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD 28 

III.  THE  HAUNTED  LAKE 43 

IV.  SACHA 57 

V.  A  THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  WOLF    ....  71 

VI.    THE  SITOVKA  FAIR 85 

VII.    AN  IRREPARABLE  Loss 98 

VIII.    A  CRUEL  DISAPPOINTMENT 114 

IX.  HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY    .  129 

X.    NEW  FACES 147 

XI.    A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN 160 

XII.    THE  BITER  BITTEN 173 

XIII.  MY  VOCATION  REVEALS  ITSELF  AT  LAST    ....  188 

XIV.  A  SURPRISE 201 

XV.    THE  VAMPIRE 217 

XVI.    A  RACE  ON  SKATES .  229 

XVII.    GRICHINE'S  SECRET 247 

XVIII.    THE  TRIAL 263 

XIX.  EXTRACT  FROM  THE  Moscow  CHRONICLE    ....  278 

XX.    EIGHT  YEARS  AFTERWARD 292 

XXI.    MY  SYMPHONY 305 

XXII.  A  STRANGE  WEDDING-GIFT.  —  CONCLUSION    .    .    .  318 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

EVENTS  IN  THE  SCHOOL  LIFE  OF  DMITRI  TERENTIEFF  Frontispiece. 

"I  GAZED  LONG  AND  SILENTLY  AT  THE  PAPER" 13 

"CAYENNE  PEPPER   STUNG   HIS  NOSTRILS  AND  FILLED  HIS 

EYES  WITH  BLINDING  TEARS  " 29 

"Mv  FATHER  APPEARED  UPON  THE  THRESHOLD,    LAMP   IN 

HAND" 53 

"  I  PLACED  BEFORE  HIM  A  BIG  EARTHEN  PAN  OF  WATER  "  '  67 

DMITRI  RESCUING  SACHA  FROM  THE  WOLF 79 

PORPHYRE  AND  THE  ClRCUS  HORSE 93 

"  THAT  CHILD  is  CHARMING  " 107 

"  '  I  WANT  TO  SEE  M.  BEREZOFF,'  I  REPLIED  "     .     .    .    „  121 

DMITRI'S  EXPERIENCE  AT  HIS  LODGING-HOUSE 143 

DMITRI  IN  PERPLEXITY  ABOUT  HIS  NIGHT'S  LODGING  ...  157 

DMITRI  IN  THE  OLD  MUSICIAN'S  ROOM 169 

STRODTM ANN'S  EXPERIENCE  IN  THE  TOOL-HOUSE     ....  183 

DMITRI  DEEP  IN  HIS  MUSICAL  STUDIES 197 

DMITRI'S  MEETING  WITH  SNAP  AND  PORPHYRE 205 

"WHAT  DELIGHTFUL  HOURS  I  SPENT  ALONE  AT  THE  ORGAN"  225 

DMITRI  AND  SACHA  AT  THE  ICE  CARNIVAL 241 

GRICHINK  AND  HIS  PROTEGEES 257 

"  IT  WAS  SNAP,  MY  POOR,  FAITHFUL  DOG  ! " 267 

SACHA  IN  THE  COURT-ROOM 283 

SACHA  INTRODUCED  TO  COUNT  OTTAVIO 299 

"I  AM  PROUD  OF  YOU,  DMITRI" 31  I 

"  IT   IS   TO  MY   DEAR  SACHA  THAT  I  DEDICATE  THESE  RE- 
COLLECTIONS OF  MY  LIFE" 325 


SCHOOLBOY    DAYS   IN    RUSSIA, 


CHAPTER    I. 

A  CRUSHING  BLOW. 

MY  name  is  Dmitri  F6dorovitch  Te'rentieff.     I  am  just 
sixteen,  and  since  Easter  I  have  been  a  member  of 
the  Senior  Class  in  Saint- Vladimir  Gymnasium,  Moscow, 
where  I  have  been  pursuing  my  studies  for  the  past  two 
years. 

A  most  appalling  and  unjust  accusation  is  now  hanging 
over  me,  and  it  is  in  the  depths  of  a  gloomy  dungeon 
that  I  am  writing  these  lines.  The  heavily  barred  window 
that  lights  my  cell  is  so  small  that  I  can  scarcely  see; 
nevertheless  I  shall  persevere  in  my  attempt  to  write  my 
vindication,  —  to  prove  by  a  truthful  account  of  my  whole 


10  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

life  that  I  am  entirely  innocent  of  the  terrible  crime  of 
which  I  am  accused. 

I  think  I  know  the  real  culprit.  It  is  one  of  my  col- 
lege mates.  A  word  from  me  would,  perhaps,  suffice  to 
immure  him  in  this  gloomy  prison,  to  which  I  was  brought 
two  days  ago,  —  to  make  him  the  inmate  of  this  damp  cell 
infested  with  rats  and  vermin :  I  can  hear  the  rats  running 
about  now,  under  the  dirty  straw  that  serves  as  my  couch. 
He  would  receive  from  the  hand  of  the  jailer  the  loaf  of 
black  bread  and  jug  of  water  which  constitute  my  rations 
for  each  day ;  he  would  find  his  fingers  and  feet  becom- 
ing more  and  more  benumbed  by  the  cold  wind  that  blows 
through  the  bars  of  my  window;  he  would  wear  these 
heavy  chains ;  he  would  be  the  object  of  general  distrust 
and  suspicion. 

But  how  can  I  accuse  another  person  without  proofs* 
especially  when  that  other  person  is  a  schoolmate,  and  I 
have  only  some  rather  vague  charges  to  make  against 
him,  —  charges  based  probably  to  a  great  extent  upon  the 
antipathy  and  distrust  with  which  he  inspired  me  from  the 
beginning  of  our  acquaintance? 

No,  I  suffer  too  much  myself  under  this  unjust  accusa- 
tion to  be  willing  to  incur  any  risk  of  inflicting  like  suffer- 
ing upon  another  innocent  person.  I  have  no  real  proofs, 
so  I  shall  be  silent  But  I  may  surely  be  allowed  to  speak 
frankly  to  myself;  so  I  feel  no  scruples  about  tracing 
upon  these  pages,  intended  for  my  eye  alone,  the  name 
of  Capiton  Karlovitch  Strodtmann.  He  is  the  person 
whom  I  believe  to  be  guilty  of  the  heinous  crime  of  which 
I  am  accused. 

I  will  begin  by  briefly  narrating  the  events  which  imme- 
diately preceded  my  incarceration  here,  This  is  the  sev- 


•    A  CRUSHING  BLOW.  II 

™ 

enteenth  day  of  April.  On  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth, 
I  reached  the  Gymnasium  about  eight  o'clock,  as  usual, 
and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  two  policemen  standing 
outside  the  gate,  and  two  more  inside  the  courtyard. 

They  instantly  surrounded  me;  and  as  I  stood  there 
gazing  in  silent  amazement,  first  at  the  officers  and  then 
at  my  fellow-students  congregated  about  the  gateway,  the 
sergeant  asked,  — 

"  Are  you  Dmitri  Terentieff?  " 

"  That  is  my  name." 

"  Then  follow  me." 

Preceded  by  the  sergeant,  and  closely  followed  by  the 
other  officers,  I  went  up  to  the  president's  room.  We 
found  M.  P6revsky  in  his  private  office;  and  strange  to 
say,  this  gentleman,  who  is  usually  so  calm  and  so  ab- 
sorbed in  thought  that  we  call  him  "  the  moonstruck 
philosopher,"  was  striding  wildly  to  and  fro  like  a  mad 
man,  with  his  spectacles  perched  on  the  top  of  his  head. 
A  scrap  of  paper,  which  he  crumpled  nervously  in  his 
agitation,  was  in  his  hand. 

As  I  entered  the  room,  escorted  by  the  policeman, 
M.  SareVine,  the  assistant  superintendent,  together  with 
several  of  our  teachers,  came  in  by  another  door. 

Our  worthy  president  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  and 
surveying  me  with  a  troubled  air  which  I  had  never  ob- 
served in  him  before,  said  gravely,  — 

"  Dmitri  Terentieff,  a  most  unfortunate  affair  which 
compromises  you  deeply  has  occurred  here.  You  are 
about  to  be  examined  in  regard  to  it.  Answer  all  ques- 
tions that  may  be  put  to  you  frankly,  and  without  dis- 
guising anything.  Paul  Petrovitch  Sarevine,  I  yield  the 
floor  to  you.  Question  the  accused." 


12  ^   SCHOOLBOY  DAYS   IN  RUSSIA. 

Stunned  by  this  ominous  preamble,  I  did  not  even  hear 
the  first  few  questions  the  assistant  superintendent  ad- 
dressed to  me,  but  gazed  at  him  in  silence,  vaguely 
wondering  of  what  crime  I  could  be  suspected. 

Our  assistant  superintendent,  M.  Sare"vine,  is  a  man 
about  forty-eight  years  of  age,  a  giant  in  stature,  who 
always  reminds  me  of  a  colonel  in  the  Imperial  Guard. 
He  wears  a  long  black  mustache,  and  has  bushy  eye- 
brows that  nearly  cover  his  eyes  when  he  is  irritated,  and 
contracts  them.  His  severity,  or  rather  the  immense  im- 
portance he  attaches  to  discipline,  amounts  to  positive 
fanaticism,  and  makes  him  a  much  more  formidable  per- 
sonage than  our  kind-hearted  president,  who  had  sunk 
back  in  his  armchair,  and  was  surveying  me  with  more 
sorrow  than  anger  in  his  gaze. 

"  Dmitri  T6rentieff,"  said  M.  Bare" vine,  omitting,  inten- 
tionally perhaps,  my  middle  name,1  "  look  at  this  paper, 
and  tell  me  if  it  belongs  to  you." 

My  heart  failed  me,  for  it  was  a  scrap  of  music  paper 
upon  which  I  had  begun  to  jot  down  a  melody  of  my  own 
composition  during  study  hours,  the  afternoon  before, 
instead  of  preparing  my  lessons.  Supposing  I  was  about 
to  be  punished  for  this  violation  of  rules,  —  a  breach  of 
discipline  which  our  superintendent  never  overlooked,  —  it 
was  in  a  faltering  voice  that  I  began  to  stammer  out  an 
excuse. 

"  Does  this  scrap  of  paper  belong  to  you?  Yes  or  no," 
demanded  M.  SareVine,  sternly. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

1  In  Russia,  it  is  considered  polite  to  add  the  father's  Christian  name  to 
that  of  the  son  ;  as,  Dmitri  Fedorovitch  Terentieff,  —  that  is  to  say,  Dmitri, 
son  of  Fedor  Terentieff. 


"  I    GAZED    LONG    AND   SILENTLY    AT   THE   PAPER." 


A  CRUSHING  BLOW.  15 

"Did  you  write  this?"  continued  the  superintendent, 
showing  me  the  other  side  of  the  sheet. 

I  gazed  in  wonder  at  the  words  inscribed  upon  it,  for  I 
had  certainly  jotted  down  only  a  few  bars  of  music  upon 
it  the  day  before,  having  purchased  the  paper  that  very 
morning;  but  this  was  certainly  my  handwriting.  I  re- 
cognized the  curve  of  my  b's,  the  little  quirl  with  which  I 
finish  my  e's,  and  above  all  my  capitals,  which  are  very 
like  those  we  see  in  type,  —  in  short,  all  the  peculiarities  of 
my  chirography,  which  is  fuller,  rounder,  and  bolder  than 
that  of  the  majority  of  my  fellow  students. 

In  my  profound  astonishment,  I  gazed  long  and  silently 
at  the  paper,  reading  the  following  words  over  again  and 
again  without  the  slightest  comprehension  of  their 
meaning :  — 

"Death-warrant  of  M.  Gavruchka,  door-keeper  at  Saint- 
Vladimir  College  !  " 

"  Answer  me,"  thundered  M.  Sarevine.  "  Do  you 
recognize  this  scrap  of  paper?  Was  it  you  who  penned 
these  lines?" 

"  It  looks  like  my  handwriting,  but  I  certainly  did  not 
write  it,"  I  faltered. 

"  My  boy,  my  boy,  tell  the  truth,"  interposed  the  pre- 
sident. "  An  offence  committed  thoughtlessly  can  be 
forgiven,  but  obstinacy  and  falsehood  only  aggravate  it." 

"  Ivan  Alexandrovitch  Perevsky,"  I  responded  earnestly, 
"  my  father  never  told  an  untruth,  and  taught  me  never  to 
utter  a  falsehood  under  any  circumstances.  What  I  just 
said  is  the  truth." 

"  Take  care !  "  exclaimed  M.  Sarevine.  "  I  have 
warned  you  that  your  words  may  be  fraught  with  the 


1 6  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

gravest  consequences  to  yourself.     Do  you  persist  in  your 
denial?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I  did  not  write  these  words.  I  am  even 
ignorant  of  their  meaning." 

"  Very  well,"  said  M.  Sar6vine.  Then,  turning  to  a 
person  I  had  not  noticed  before,  seated  in  a  window  niche, 
he  asked,  — 

"  Are  you  taking  all  this  down,  Golovetchov?  " 

"  Yes,  in  shorthand,"  was  the  response. 

Behold,  my  former  instructor  in  stenography  was 
evidently  acting  as  clerk  of  the  investigation.  Good 
heavens !  what  did  all  this  mean  ? 

"  Bring  Strodtmann  in,"  ordered  the  superintendent. 

My  classmate  was  immediately  ushered  into  the  room. 
He  is  a  fellow  I  have  always  disliked.  He  is  of  German 
descent  on  his  father's  side;  Russian,  on  his  mother's. 
We  are  about  the  same  age.  He  is  tall,  about  my  height, 
indeed ;  and  like  me,  he  has  light  hair  and  wears  a  white 
cap. 

Like  me,  too,  he  is  one  of  the  least  gifted  pupils  of  the 
senior  class.  He  comes  out  of  his  examinations  no  better 
than  I  do ;  nor  is  his  career  as  a  student  attended  with  any 
more  brilliant  success.  In  short,  there  is  some  resemblance 
between  us,  but  the  resemblance,  I  trust,  is  only  superficial. 
In  character,  we  are  direct  opposites,  —  at  least  I  hope  so. 

At  first,  I  could  not  believe  that  he  was  really  going  to 
testify  against  me ;  but  I  was  soon  undeceived. 

"Capiton  Karlovitch  Strodtmann,  let  us  hear  the  facts 
so  far  as  you  know  them,"  said  the  superintendent. 

Capiton,  who  had  been  unusually  pale  when  he  entered, 
blushed  deeply  on  hearing  these  words ;  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  he  avoided  my  gaze. 


A  CRUSHING  BLOW.  17 

"  The  facts  are  as  follows,"  he  answered,  in  a  rather  care- 
less tone.  "  Yesterday  I  devoted  the  last  hour  of  the 
session,  as  usual,  to  the  preparation  of  my  Greek  transla- 
tion. There  were  only  a  few  students  in  the  room,  eight 
or  nine  in  all,  perhaps,  and  among  them,  my  classmate 
now  present.  Having  occasion  to  look  out  a  word  in  my 
Greek  dictionary,  I  discovered  that  I  had  left  it  at  home. 
All  my  classmates  were  using  theirs  except  Terentieff, 
who  was  writing  something  on  a  large  sheet  of  paper.  I 
approached  him  to  ask  him  to  lend  me  his  lexicon ;  and  on 
seeing  me  coming  he  concealed  the  paper  so  I  could  not 
see  what  he  was  writing.  I  had  time,  however,  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  some  bold  letters  written  upon  a  sheet  of  music 
paper." 

"  Dmitri  Terentieff,  do  you  admit  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment? "  interposed  M.  Sarevine. 

"  Yes,  except  in  regard  to  the  bold  letters  written  upon 
the  paper.  It  was  music  I  was  writing,  —  notes  and  not 
words." 

"  Then  why  did  you  hide  the  paper  when  your  class- 
mate approached  you?" 

"  Because  —  because  —  it  was  —  "  I  paused,  greatly 
embarrassed.  I  hated  so  to  confess  the  truth,  —  to  ac- 
knowledge that  this  music  was  of  my  own  composition. 
How  could  I  confess  that  music  was  the  one  engrossing 
passion  of  my  life?  How  could  I  confess  that  strange, 
entrancing  melodies  were  ever  transporting  my  soul  upon 
their  powerful  pinions  far,  far  from  Greek  and  Latin,  — 
far  from  the  grim  walls  of  Saint- Vladimir  and  Moscow,  up 
to  the  very  gates  of  heaven.  How  could  I  confess  to 
these  indifferent  and  perhaps  hostile  ears  that  I  was 
dreaming  of  abandoning  science  for  art,  letters  for  divine 


1 8  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

harmony;  that  the  composition  of  a  great  symphony 
haunts  me  day  and  night,  and  that  I  was  jotting  down  one 
of  the  melodies  yesterday  during  study  hours?  Why 
should  I  disclose  my  secret  to  every  one,  and  expose  my- 
self to  the  ridicule  of  my  classmates  and  the  scorn  of  my 
instructors? 

I  resolved  to  say  no  more. 

"  Your  silence  compromises  you  deeply,"  said  M.  Sare- 
vine,  after  a  moment.  "  Answer,  why  did  you  conceal  the 
paper  from  your  classmate?  " 

"  I  did  not  wish  him  to  see  what  I  was  writing." 

"  And  why?  " 

"  I  do  not  care  to  divulge  my  reasons." 

A  disapproving  murmur  resounded  through  the  room. 
The  president  silenced  it  with  a  gesture,  then,  turning 
kindly  to  me,  he  urged  me  to  keep  nothing  back ;  but  I 
could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  speak. 

"  Finish  your  deposition,  Strodtmann,"  said  the  super- 
intendent. 

"  I  returned  to  my  seat,  and  went  to  work  again  upon 
my  translation.  About  five  o'clock,  M.  Sarevine  entered 
the  study  hall.  I  glanced  at  Te"rentieff,  and  saw  him  hastily 
slip  the  big  sheet  of  paper  into  his  desk  again.  M.  Sare- 
vine made  his  round,  and  went  out.  Dmitri  Fedorovitch 
had  his  books  open  on  the  desk  before  him,  and  seemed 
to  be  studying  hard  all  the  time  the  superintendent  was 
in  the  room.  Five  minutes  after  M.  Sardvine  went  out, 
the  bell  sounded.  Dmitri  was  one  of  the  first  to  leave 
the  room.  He  had  his  lunch  basket  under  his  arm,  and 
at  the  time  I  thought  it  more  than  probable  that  he  had 
placed  the  paper  in  it,  and  shortly  afterwards  I  discovered 
that  such  was  really  the  fact." 


A   CRUSHING  BLOW.  19 

"  Strodtmann  is  mistaken  !  "  I  exclaimed  hastily;  "  I  left 
the  paper  in  my  desk,  under  my  portfolio." 

"  Do  not  interrupt  the  witness,"  said  M.  Sarevine, 
sternly. 

"  Dmitri  having  left  without  asking  me  for  his  diction- 
ary," continued  Strodtmann,  "  I  went  to  his  desk  to  replace 
the  book  before  starting  for  home." 

"  Were  any  of  your  classmates  still  in  the  study 
hall?" 

"  No,  they  had  all  left.  Gavruchka,  the  janitor,  was  the 
only  person  in  the  room  besides  myself.  As  I  opened 
Dmitri's  desk,  I  happened  to  think  of  the  mysterious 
paper,  and  my  curiosity  having  been  aroused  in  regard 
to  it,  I  thought  I  'd  look  for  it." 

"  This  is  a  little  too  much !  "  I  cried  indignantly.  "  How 
impertinent  in  you  to  dare  to  rummage  about  among  my 
private  papers,  and  then  boast  of  it,  into  the  bargain !  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  you  are  not  to  interrupt  the 
witness,"  said  M.  Sarevine,  sternly.  "What  followed?" 

"I  did  not  find  the  paper;  but  while  I  was  putting 
things  in  order,  our  classmate,  Serge  Kratkine,  re-entered 
the  study  hall. 

"'What  are  you  looking  for?'  he  asked.  'Why  are 
you  rummaging  in  Dmitri's  desk?  You  know  very  well 
that  he  won't  like  it.' 

" '  I  am  only  returning  his  dictionary,'  I  replied,  think- 
ing it  advisable,  quite  as  much  on  Dmitri's  account  as  on 
my  own,  to  make  no  allusion  to  the  mysterious  paper 
which  was  no  longer  in  his  desk.  He  had  evidently  taken 
it  away  with  him,  as  I  suspected  when  I  saw  him  leave 
the  room." 

A  wild  paroxysm  of  anger  seized  me  at  this  point  in 


2O  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Strodtmann's  testimony.  His  impertinent  act,  and  the  way 
in  which  he  mingled  truth  with  falsehood  in  his  statements, 
exasperated  me  beyond  endurance. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  I  shouted  angrily.  "  After  being 
guilty  of  the  gross  outrage  of  tampering  with  my  private 
papers  in  order  to  ferret  out  my  secrets,  how  dare  you  lie, 
and  say  that  the  paper  was  not  there?  Doubtless  you 
have  stolen  it;  for  though  I  have  no  idea  of  your  motive 
in  inventing  all  this,  I  know  you  well  enough  to  feel 
certain  that  you  are  plotting  some  villany." 

As  I  uttered  these  words  in  tones  of  frantic  rage,  I  saw 
Strodtmann  turn  pale ;  and  the  look  he  bestowed  upon  me 
was  so  full  of  hatred  that  it  astonished  me,  though  no  one 
else  seemed  to  notice  it. 

"  Your  very  anger  is  conclusive  evidence  against  you," 
interrupted  M.  SareVine,  in  tones  of  icy  coldness.  "  Go 
on  with  your  testimony,  witness." 

"  But  he  lies,  Mr.  Superintendent !  "  I  cried  hotly. 
"  He  pretends  that  he  did  not  find  this  paper,  —  this  per- 
fectly harmless  paper,  —  and  I  solemnly  swear  to  you  that 
I  left  it  in  my  desk,  under  my  books,  where  I  supposed  it 
perfectly  safe,  though  that  was  really  of  very  little  con- 
sequence, as  I  had  written  only  two  or  three  bars  of 
music  on  it.  Who  could  have  had  the  audacity  to  take 
it  and  write  all  this  nonsense,  and  above  all,  imitate  my 
handwriting  so  carefully?  It  is  incomprehensible.  And 
if  the  paper  was  not  found  in  my  desk,  where  did  it 
come  from  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  in  your  desk  that  we  found  it,  I  regret  to 
say,"  replied  our  worthy  president,  in  grave  and  troubled 
tones.  "  The  paper,  Dmitri,  was  picked  up  this  morning, 
in  my  presence,  by  M.  SareVine,  in  the  room  of  Janitor 


A   CRUSHING  BLOW.  21 

Gavruchka,  the  unfortunate  victim  of  an  assault  of  which 
you  are  the  supposed  perpetrator." 

"Gavruchka?  Victim?"  I  repeated,  without  compre- 
hending in  the  least. 

Up  to  that  time,  Gavruchka  had  certainly  never  figured 
in  the  r61e  of  a  victim,  but  rather  in  the  role  of  a  tyrant 
and  persecutor.  For  years  all  the  students,  young  and 
old,  had  cordially  united  in  anathematizing  this  function- 
ary, who  had  seemed  to  delight  in  humiliating  them  in 
every  possible  way ;  so  upon  hearing  the  president's  word, 
I  instantly  concluded  that  some  rough  trick  had  been 
played  upon  the  unpopular  janitor. 

"  Then  some  one  thought  to  play  a  joke  upon  Gavruchka 
by  sending  him  this  paper,  I  suppose,  but  I  know  nothing 
at  all  about  it,"  I  answered  carelessly. 

"  The  joke  was  a  very  serious  one,"  responded  M.  Sare- 
vine,  curtly.  "Gavruchka  was  found  unconscious,  and  to 
all  appearance  lifeless,  in  his  room  at  seven  o'clock  this 
morning,  and  everything  seems  to  indicate  that  he  has  been 
the  victim  of  a  violent  assault.  He  has  rallied  a  little,  but 
he  is  still  unable  to  utter  a  word,  and  it  seems  more  than 
probable  that  he  will  die  from  the  rough  usage  he  has 
received,  as  his  brain  is  seriously  injured.  Appearances 
are  certainly  very  much  against  you,  and  you  would  do 
well,  I  think,  to  confess  your  guilt  without  further  delay. 
Name  your  accomplices,  and  explain  to  us  how  a  joke 
could  have  degenerated  into  such  a  heinous  crime.  Once 
more,  and  for  the  last  time,  I  entreat  you  to  confess  all." 

I  was  overwhelmed  with  consternation  by  this  announce- 
ment. Gavruchka  lying  at  the  point  of  death !  and  I  — 
Dmitri  Terentieff — accused  of  being  his  assassin!  They 
could  calmly  announce  such  a  fact  to  me !  They  believed 


22  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN   RUSSIA. 

me  capable  of  such  a  crime !  The  mere  thought  was 
enough  to  drive  one  mad.  For  a  moment  my  head 
whirled  wildly  round  and  round ;  then  a  terrible  darkness 
seemed  to  settle  down  upon  me,  and  like  one  in  a  dream  I 
listened  to  the  testimony  of  the  other  witnesses. 

Serge  Arcadievitch  Kratkine,  my  most  intimate  friend, 
was  next  summoned.  He  confirmed  Strodtmann's  testi- 
mony in  relation  to  his  return  to  the  study  hall,  and  stated 
that  he  and  Strodtmann  left  the  building  together.  Serge 
felt  sure  that  I  was  innocent;  but  he  had  no  proof  of 
it,  and  was  even  compelled  to  admit  that  the  writing 
corresponded  with  mine  in  every  particular.  Several  of  my 
classmates,  among  them  Grichine  Yegov,  testified  likewise. 

Afterwards  one  of  the  policemen  gave  his  testimony. 
He  declared  that  he  had  seen  me  enter  the  janitor's  room 
about  eight  o'clock  the  evening  before.  He  recognized 
me  perfectly.  I  was  wearing  the  same  clothing,  and  the 
same  white  cap. 

"What  brought  you  here  last  evening?"  asked  our 
superintendent. 

I  had  no  difficulty  in  answering  this  question.  It  was 
only  necessary  for  me  to  tell  the  truth. 

"  On  returning  home  last  evening  I  discovered  that  I 
had  forgotten  my  Greek  dictionary,"  I  replied.  "  I  had 
lent  it  to  Strodtmann,  as  he  told  you  a  few  minutes  ago ; 
and  as  I  had  not  even  looked  at  my  translation  for  this 
morning,  I  — " 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  study  hour  ?  " 

"  With  such  a  grave  charge  hanging  over  me,  I  can  no 
longer  hesitate  to  tell  you.  I  spent  the  entire  study  hour 
in  jotting  down  a  melody  which  was  running  in  my  head, 
and  which  prevented  me  from  thinking  of  my  translation; 


A  CRUSHING  BLOW.  23 

so  I  resolved  to  prepare  it  in  the  evening  at  home,  and  it 
was  in  the  hope  that  Gavruchka  would  allow  me  to  enter 
the  study  hall,  and  get  my  dictionary,  that  I  returned  here. 
I  rapped  at  the  small  door  on  the  right  of  the  main 
entrance,  the  one  leading  directly  into  the  janitor's  room. 
Gavruchka  opened  the  door  himself.  I  entered,  and  made 
known  my  request ;  but  he  absolutely  refused  to  open  the 
classroom,  saying  it  was  contrary  to  rules,  so  I  left 
immediately  afterwards." 

"How  long  did  you  remain  in  Gavruchka's  room?" 
inquired  the  president. 

"  One  minute,  perhaps ;  two,  at  the  very  longest." 

"  Did  you  see  the  accused  leave  the  building?  "  asked  M. 
Sarevine,  turning  to  the  policeman. 

"  No,  or  at  least  not  alone.  After  I  saw  him  enter  the 
janitor's  room,  I  walked  on  to  the  end  of  this  street,  and 
then  down-  the  next  street.  This  took  me  at  least  a  half 
hour,  and  I  forgot  all  about  the  young  man  until,  finding 
myself  about  fifty  yards  from  the  college  about  quarter  of 
twelve  o'clock,  I  saw  the  side  door  cautiously  open,  and 
three  young  men  come  out.  One  was  tall,  just  about 
Terentieff  's  height  and  size,  I  should  say ;  the  others  were 
much  smaller.  They  all  wore  long  coats,  and  were  muffled 
up  to  their  very  eyes.  The  tallest  of  the  three  wore  the 
white  cap  of  a  senior  student.  Surprised  to  see  them 
coming  out  of  the  building  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  I  con- 
cluded to  follow  them.  They  walked  very  rapidly,  and 
parted  without  exchanging  a  word,  at  the  corner  of  the 
next  street.  I  continued  to  follow  the  tall  one,  and  as  he 
passed  a  street-lamp,  I  could  see  that  he  had  light  hair. 
In  fact,  I  feel  certain  that  it  was  the  same  young  man  I 
had  seen  entering  the  building  about  eight  o'clock. 


24  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  admit  that  the  witness  Strodtmann 
has  hair  of  the  same  color,  and  that  he  looks  almost  as 
much  like  the  young  man  I  followed  last  night  as  the 
accused  does." 

I  glanced  at  my  fellow  student  as  the  officer  uttered 
these  words ;  and  seeing  that  his  face  was  absolutely  livid 
in  hue,  there  flashed  across  my  mind  a  hasty,  but  none  the 
less  firm  conviction  that  he  was  the  real  culprit,  but  that 
he  had  resolved  to  cast  the  odium  of  the  crime  upon' me. 

I  glanced  at  the  other  persons  present,  but  to  my  great 
surprise,  no  one  seemed  to  notice  his  agitation. 

"  I  followed  the  young  man  as  far  as  the  Petrovska,"  con- 
tinued the  officer.  "  There,  he  either  slipped  around  some 
dark  corner  or  hastily  entered  a  house,  for  all  at  once  I 
lost  sight  of  him.  Having  no  special  reason  to  suspect 
him  of  any  mischief,  I  abandoned  the  pursuit,  and  probably 
should  have  forgotten  all  about  it,  if  our  sergeant  had  not 
been  hastily  summoned  here  this  morning.  I  accompanied 
him.  On  our  arrival,  we  found  the  president  and  the 
superintendent  in  the  janitor's  room,  bending  over  the 
apparently  lifeless  body  of  Gavruchka.  The  unfortunate 
man  was  in  a  kneeling  posture,  with  his  forehead  resting 
upon  a  table,  his  eyes  closely  bandaged,  his  hands  securely 
tied  behind  him,  and  a  wet  towel,  twisted  like  a  rope,  on 
the  back  of  his  neck.  On  the  floor  beside  him  lay  the 
paper  with  his  death-warrant  written  upon  it.  I  watched 
the  pupils  as  they  entered  the  building  this  morning,  and 
without  the  slightest  difficulty  identified  T6rentieff  as  the 
young  man  who  entered  the  janitor's  room  at  eight  o'clock 
last  evening;  but  I  was  not  able  to  identify  the  persons 
who  were  in  company  with  hirn  when  he  left  the  building 
about  midnight." 


A   CRUSHING  BLOW.  2$ 

The  officer's  testimony  seemed  unanswerable.  How 
could  I  vindicate  myself?  How  prgve  that  I  was  not  one 
of  the  party  that  left  the  institution  at  midnight?  If 
Gavruchka  could  only  speak ! 

"  Do  you  persist  in  saying  that  you  left  the  janitor's 
room  almost  immediately?"  inquired  the  president. 

"  Yes,  sir,  immediately ;  but  when  I  came  out,  I  saw 
nothing  of  the  policeman,  though  I  noticed  him  when  I 
entered  the  building.  The  street  was  deserted.  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  met  a  single  person." 

"Where  did  you  spend  the  evening?" 

"  I  intended  to  return  home  and  prepare  my  trans- 
lation, but  this  being  impossible  without  a  dictionary,  I 
attended  the  concert  at  the  Porte  Dore'e,  where  I  remained 
until  nearly  midnight." 

"  What  seat  did  you  occupy?  " 

"  I  purchased  a  ticket  for  the  third  gallery  at  the  office 
as  I  went  in." 

"What  pieces  of  music  did  you  hear?" 

"  The  instrumental  selections  consisted  of  the  Beet- 
hoven's Symphonic  HeroYque,  a  selection  from  The  Dam- 
nation of  Faust  by  Berlioz,  Brahms's  waltzes,  and  a  melody 
of  Rubenstein." 

"  He  could  easily  have  learned  all  this  merely  by  read- 
ing the  program,"  said  M.  Sarevine,  in  tones  which,  though 
subdued,  were  nevertheless  distinctly  audible.  "  At  what 
hour  did  you  reach  home?  " 

"About  quarter  of  twelve." 

"  Did  you  speak  to  any  one." 

"  Only  to  the  porter  of  the  house  on  the  Petrovska  where 
I  live." 

"Ah,    so  you  live  on  the  Petrovska?"  exclaimed   the 


26  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

superintendent,  exchanging  glances  with  the  officer.  "  If 
you  can  mention  no  one  who  saw  and  recognized  you  at 
the  concert,  you  will  find  yourself  in  a  pretty  bad  plight." 

"  You  must  see  for  yourself,  Dmitri,  that  all  the  evidence 
is  against  you,"  said  our  worthy  president,  sadly.  "  Once 
more  let  me  entreat  you  to  confess  the  truth,  and  name 
your  accomplices." 

"  I  am  innocent,  sir;  I  have  no  accomplices.  I  swear  it 
upon  my  honor.  I  know  nothing  about  the  affair.  It  was 
from  you  that  I  first  heard  of  the  sorry  state  in  which 
Gavruchka  was  found.  When  I  saw  him  last,  about  eight 
o'clock  yesterday  evening,  he  was  in  perfect  health." 

The  president  sighed  heavily  as  he  rose  from  his  chair. 
"  Do  your  duty,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  officers. 
"  The  course  the  accused  has  chosen  to  adopt  compels  us 
to  abandon  him.  You  may  rest  assured  that  we  shall  do 
our  best  to  discover  his  accomplices." 

The  sergeant  approached  me. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Czar  I  arrest  you,"  he  said  gruffly. 

Almost  at  the  same  instant  handcuffs  were  deftly  fastened 
about  my  wrists,  and  I  found  myself  descending  the  stairs 
between  two  policemen.  A  group  of  curious  and  excited 
classmates  had  assembled  at  the  foot  of  the  main  stairway 
to  await  the  return  of  those  who  had  been  summoned  as 
witnesses,  and  a  feeling  of  rage  and  humiliation  seized  me 
at  the  thought  that  they  would  see  me  thus  disgraced. 

The  majority  of  them  were  silent,  though  their  coun- 
tenances evinced  deep  compassion ;  some  few,  however, 
desirous  probably  of  freeing  themselves  from  any  possible 
suspicion  of  complicity,  drew  away  with  a  horrified  air  at 
my  approach. 

But   as  I  was  crossing  the   courtyard,    my  dear  friend 


A   CRUSHING  BLOW.  2 7 

Serge  Kratkine  ran  up  to  me,  and  threw  his  arms  around 
my  neck. 

"  Courage  !  "  he  cried ;  "  you  are  innocent ;  I  know  it, 
and  I  will  never  desert  you !  " 

Several  other  classmates,  among  them  Grichine  Yegov, 
came  up  and  shook  hands  with  me. 

Ten  minutes  more,  and  I  was  in  prison.  I  do  not  know 
what  my  fate  will  be.  I  shall  doubtless  be  examined  again 
in  a  few  days,  and  then  be  formally  tried  in  a  public  court. 

Since  I  have  been  confined  here  I  seem  to  have  lived 
my  whole  life  over  again.  Recollections  of  the  happy 
days  of  my  childhood  haunt  me  continually,  and  it  seems 
to  me  that  my  past  life  furnishes  my  best  means  of  defence. 
Perhaps  a  truthful,  unvarnished  account  of  my  past  acts 
and  feelings  will  aid  me  in  vindicating  myself. 

But  it  is  growing  late.  Daylight  has  nearly  faded  from 
my  cell,  and  I  am  obliged  to  pause.  I  shall  resume  this 
story  of  my  life  to-morrow,  —  or  rather  begin  to  jot  down  my 
recollections  of  my  childhood.  At  all  events,  it  will  serve 
to  enliven  the  dreariness  of  my  captivity,  which  threatens 
to  be  a  lengthy  one.  I  have  asked  for  and  obtained  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  pens,  ink,  and  paper. 

The  shades  of  night  are  settling  down  upon  me.  I  can 
hear  the  rats  running  about  in  the  straw.  They  must  be 
very  numerous,  judging  from  the  inroads  they  have  made 
upon  my  loaf.  A  shudder  creeps  over  me.  Can  it  be 
that  I  am  afraid? 

No !  Dmitri  Fedorovitch  Te"rentieff  should  know  no 
fear.  He  is  the  son  of  an  honest  man ;  he  is  entirely  in- 
nocent of  the  crime  of  which  he  is  accused ;  and  a  tran- 
quil conscience  is  the  best  of  pillows,  even  upon  the  damp 
straw  of  a  rat-infested  dungeon. 


CHAPTER   II. 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 

MY  very  earliest  recollections  are  of  my  father's  cot- 
tage, my  birthplace.  It  stood  alone  at  a  turn  in 
the  road,  surrounded  by  a  neglected  garden  and  a  few 
dilapidated  sheds  and  outbuildings,  on  the  outskirts  of  an 
obscure  Russian  village. 

It  was  quite  a  distance  from  the  other  houses,  which 
were  grouped  irregularly  around  the  manorial  mansion. 
This  mansion,  as  well  as  all  the  country  for  miles  around, 
belonged  to  a  wealthy  and  eccentric  widow,  the  Princess 
Lebanoff,  who  spent  most  of  the  year  in  St.  Petersburg, 
exiling  herself  in  Sitovka  only  when  the  necessity  of  col- 
lecting her  rents  in  person  compelled  her  to  make  such 
a  sacrifice.  The  windows  of  the  chateau  were  always 
closed  except  during  her  rare  visits,  and  the  large  park 
merely  served  as  a  playground  for  us  village  boys,  in 
spite  of  her  steward's  efforts  to  prevent  this  abuse.  The 
poor  man  was  highly  indignant,  and  his  complaints,  in 
which  he  was  heartily  joined  by  the  village  schoolmaster, 
a  German,  were  loud  and  frequent. 

Among  the  young  rascals  who  nearly  tormented  the 
life  out  of  the  old  schoolmaster,  as  well  as  Mme.  Leban- 
off s  steward,  I  must  admit  that  I  was  first  and  foremost. 


CAYENNE   PEPPER    STUNG    HIS    NOSTRILS    AND    FILLED   HIS 
EYELIDS    WITH    BLINDING    TEARS." 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.  31 

If  a  leader  was  needed  in  a  campaign  against  those  in 
authority,  I  was  always  ready.  In  fact,  I  displayed  a 
fertility  of  imagination  and  an  aptitude  for  reversing  the 
usual  order  of  things  in  the  schoolroom,  that  amaze  me, 
even  now.  If  Master  Johann  Lebewohl  furtively  inserted  two 
fingers  in  his  snuff-box,  and  then  raised  them  to  his  nose, 
a  pinch  of  cayenne  pepper  stung  his  nostrils,  and  filled 
his  eyes  with  blinding  tears.  The  culprits  usually  took 
advantage  of  the  confusion  that  ensued  to  crawl  stealthily 
along  under  the  benches  to  the  door,  and  then  make  good 
their  escape. 

When  the  victim  recovered  his  breath  and  looked  around 
for  the  authors  of  his  misfortunes,  we  were  out  of  his  reach, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  vent  his  wrath  upon  the  innocent, 
who,  in  spite  of  the  frequent  recurrence  of  this  and  similar 
scenes,  remained  indifferent  alike  to  his  sufferings  and 
his  reproaches.  The  Russian  peasant  is  endowed  from 
infancy  with  an  unconquerable  sluggishness  and  stoicism ; 
so  although  Master  Lebewohl  administered  blows  right 
and  left  indiscriminately,  in  his  fiery  wrath  and  indigna- 
tion, the  boys  accepted  them  with  resignation,  consoling 
themselves  with  the  proverb,  "  The  heavens  are  high 
above  us,  and  the  czar  far  away,"  —  merely  another  way  of 
saying  that  one  should  bear  one's  wrongs  patiently,  and 
never  rebel  against  the  inevitable. 

The  very  next  day,  perhaps,  the  master  would  endeavor 
to  inscribe  on  the  blackboard  the  words  or  figures  required 
for  the  elucidation  of  some  difficult  problem  in  mathem- 
atics, but  not  a  mark  could  he  make.  The  entire  surface 
of  the  blackboard  was  covered  with  a  gluey  substance  that 
checked  the  deftly  handled  crayon  in  the  very  beginning 
of  its  arabesques ;  or  he  found  his  pen  firmly  embedded  in 


32  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  inkstand ;  or  the  stick  with  which  he  held  us  in  sub- 
jection was  missing.  As  he  was  a  teacher  who  could  not 
possibly  teach  without  a  stick  under  his  arm,  the  rest  of 
the  session  was  spent  in  vainly  searching  for  it,  and  as  no 
power  on  earth  could  keep  us  prisoners  after  school  hours, 
we  rushed  out  of  the  room  like  a  drove  of  unruly  colts 
when  the  clock  indicated  the  appointed  time. 

The  stick  was  subsequently  found  hidden  in  the  master's 
bed,  or  half  consumed  in  the  stove,  greatly  to  his  disgust. 

"  It  is  another  trick  of  that  accursed  Dmitri  F6doro- 
vitch,"  he  would  growl ;  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  he 
was  generally  right  in  considering  me  the  cause  of  his 
troubles. 

In  fact,  I  had  a  deep  aversion  to  study,  and  to  all  author- 
ity, except  that  exercised  by  my  father.  I  was  really 
happy  only  when  I  was  roaming  about  the  fields  alone, 
and  drinking  in  the  cold,  exhilarating  air  of  the  steppes. 
I  had  no  intimate  friend  among  my  classmates ;  they 
merely  served  as  my  tools  in  playing  tricks  upon  the 
master.  My  liberty  once  secured,  I  deserted  them  with- 
out a  word,  and  rushed  off  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  day 
wandering  through  the  fields  and  forest.  With  my  hands 
buried  deep  in  my  trousers'  pockets,  I  strolled  aimlessly 
on,  dreaming  all  sorts  of  wild,  fantastic  dreams,  but  never 
once  feeling  the  need  of  a  companion  or  confidant. 
Nothing  more  was  seen  of  me  until  night,  when  I  returned 
as  hungry  as  a  wolf,  and  re-entered  the  house  as  tranquilly 
as  if  my  conduct  had  been  irreproachable. 

"  So  here  you  are  at  last,  Dmitri !  "  my  father  would  ex- 
claim, from  the  depths  of  his  shabby  old  armchair.  "  You 
have  played  truant  all  day.  I  can  see  it  in  your  face.  You 
will  always  be  an  incorrigible  dunce,  I  fear;  but  after  all, 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.  33 

my  boy,  the  wisest  thing  you  can  do,  perhaps,  is  to  amass 
a  goodly  store  of  health  and  strength." 

And  then  my  kind  father  would  sink  wearily  back  in  his 
armchair.  He  was  an  exceedingly  weak  and  delicate  man, 
made  of  entirely  different  clay  from  the  moujiks1  of  Sitovka, 
and  also  from  myself,  a  sturdy,  uncouth  lad  who  could 
have  lifted  him  off  his  feet  without  the  slightest  effort,  it 
seemed  to  me,  and  I  entertained  the  deepest  tenderness 
and  respect  for  him. 

My  father  was  a  physician.  At  the  age  of  twenty,  and 
before  he  gained  his  diploma  unfortunately,  he  married 
his  cousin,  Alexandra  Pavlovna  Latkine,  the  daughter  of 
an  impoverished  nobleman,  who  had  died  leaving  her 
homeless  and  penniless.  The  young  student  and  his  wife 
lived  for  awhile  in  Moscow,  in  a  state  of  extreme  poverty ; 
but  shortly  after  my  father  won  his  degree,  he  inherited 
from  a  distant  relative  the  old  cottage  and  bit  of  ground 
near  Sitovka ;  and  thankful  for  any  place  of  shelter,  how- 
ever humble,  they  decided  to  take  up  their  abode  there. 
It  was  there  where  I  first  opened  my  eyes  to  the  light, 
and  where  my  mother  died  soon  after  my  birth. 

My  father  was  endowed  with  rare  intelligence  and  ability, 
as  his  attainments  and  scientific  researches  testified  ;  and  in 
spite  of  the  many  difficulties  that  beset  his  pathway  in  life, 
he  succeeded  in  gaining  an  enviable  reputation  in  the 
scientific  world ;  but  after  my  mother's  death,  his  health, 
which  had  been  seriously  undermined  before,  gave  way 
entirely.  Depressed  in  spirits,  discouraged,  made  prema- 
turely old  by  care  and  anxiety,  and  feeling  he  had  but  a 
short  time  to  live,  he  resolved  to  spend  the  rest  of  his 
days  in  seclusion  at  Sitovka. 

1  Peasants. 
3 


34  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Every  morning,  he  climbed  into  his  rickety 
drawn  by  a  shaggy  little  pony,  and  started  on  his  round 
of  visits.  I  can  see  him  now,  wrapped  in  his  long  rough 
overcoat,  the  coarse  texture  of  which  only  made  the  deli- 
cacy of  his  features  more  noticeable.  He  had  long,  silky, 
blond  hair,  and  slender,  beautifully  formed  hands,  and  he 
was  the  personification  of  all  that  was  noble  and  refined  in 
my  eyes.  I  cared  for  nobody  in  the  world  but  him ;  and 
though  I  was  often  rude  and  belligerent  toward  others,  I 
was  always  as  submissive  and  affectionate  as  a  daughter  to 
him.  He,  in  turn,  was  ever  kind  and  indulgent  to  me ;  and 
though  he  sometimes  expostulated  with  me  in  regard  to 
my  conduct,  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  never  really 
annoyed  by  my  delinquencies. 

That  being  the  case,  what  did  I  care  for  the  opinion  of 
others?  His  contempt  would  have  been  intolerable;  but 
what  Master  Lebewohl  or  any  one  else  thought  of  me  was 
a  matter  of  supreme  indifference.  I  only  knew  that  my 
father  detested  cowardice  and  deceit ;  so  I  never  stooped 
to  either,  but  in  every  other  respect,  I  did  as  I  pleased.  I 
had  noticed  that  he  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  seeing  me 
strong  and  agile,  so  I  devoted  a  great  deal  of  my  time  and 
attention  to  all  sorts  of  physical  exercises,  such  as  running, 
leaping,  climbing,  riding  all  the  horses  in  the  neighborhood 
bare-backed,  and  trying  to  lift  heavier  weights  from  day  to 
day;  so,  although  I  was  a  perfect  ignoramus  at  the  age  of 
ten  years  —  I  scarcely  knew  how  to  read  and  write  —  I  was 
so  well  developed  physically,  that  one  would  have  sup- 
posed me  to  be  at  least  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  old. 

I  knew  but  one  thing  passably  well.  That  was  French, 
which  my  father  —  like  all  educated  Russians  —  had 

1  A  light,  four-wheeled,  open  wagon. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.  35 

spoken  from  infancy,  and  which  I  had  learned  from  him 
without  much  effort  on  my  part. 

My  father  often  amused  himself  by  drawing  comparisons 
between  himself  and  me.  He  seemed  to  take  genuine 
pleasure  in  comparing  my  big  sturdy  fists,  stalwart  shoul- 
ders, and  broad,  full  chest  with  his  own  slender,  bowed 
form.  It  was  evidently  a  great  comfort  to  him  to  see  me 
so  healthy  and  vigorous.  The  fact  is,  we  did  not  resemble 
each  other  in  the  least.  I  flattered  myself  that  I  should  be 
tall  like  him,  but  there  the  resemblance  would  cease ;  for 
there  was  nothing  in  my  ruddy  face,  tanned  by  constant  ex- 
posure to  the  wind  and  sun,  and  surrounded  with  thick 
masses  of  bushy  hair  cut  straight  across  the  forehead,  to 
remind  one  of  my  father's  pale,  attenuated  features. 

In  short,  Fedor  Illitch,  my  father,  was  not  only  a  student, 
but  a  student  whose  mind  was  much  too  active  for  his  frail 
body,  while  I  —  well,  there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  to 
apprehend  any  danger  of  that  kind,  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned. 

We  lived  alone  together,  my  father  and  I,  in  our  tumble- 
down cottage.  We  kept  no  servant,  and  I  took  care  of 
our  little  horse,  Vodka,  —  I  had  given  him  the  name  of  the 
liquor  made  from  fermented  grain,  and  so  universally  used 
in  Russia,  his  violent  and  irascible  disposition  making  it 
a  very  appropriate  appellation,  in  my  opinion. 

Many  a  fine  gallop  we  have  had  together,  Vodka  and 
I,  when  my  father  had  no  use  for  him,  for  I  had  succeeded 
in  mastering  him,  at  least  partially. 

Sometimes  I  amused  myself  by  plaiting  his  mane  and 
tail  with  bits  of  bright-hued  braid  given  me  by  some  of  the 
farmers'  daughters  in  the  neighborhood.  When  I  had  thus 
adorned  him,  I  frequently  erected  a  canopy  of  leafy 


36  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS   IN  RUSSIA. 

boughs  over  the  seat  of  the  titegue,  thus  enabling  my 
father  to  make  his  round  of  visits  sheltered  from  the  cruel 
sun,  —  for  the  heat  of  a  Russian  summer  is  overpowering, 
and  the  invalid  suffered  much  more  from  it  than  he  was 
willing  to  admit. 

I  well  remember  the  pang  that  pierced  my  heart,  in 
spite  of  my  apparent  high  spirits,  when  I  heard  my  father's 
sepulchral  cough,  and  saw  his  forehead  beaded  with  sweat, 
and  the  handkerchief  he  raised  to  his  lips  stained  with 
blood.  I  know  now  that  he  needed  constant  care,  and  a 
life  of  ease  and  luxury.  Doubtless  a  different  life  from 
that  we  led  would  have  greatly  prolonged  his  days.  In- 
stead of  that,  we  lived  like  the  poorest  peasant,  subsisting 
chiefly  on  rye  bread  and  salt  fish,  and  tasting  meat  only 
once  or  twice  a  year. 

It  was  only  when  I  felt  in  the  mood  for  cooking  that  I 
prepared  a  bowl  of  warm  racha,1  against  my  father's 
return.  I  know  not  what  would  have  become  of  the  dear 
man  under  this  regime,  if  he  had  not  had  his  tea  to  console 
him.  He  drank  it  continually,  after  the  manner  of  the 
Russian  peasantry;  that  is  to  say,  by  taking  a  mouthful 
from  his  glass  and  then  nibbling  the  lump  of  sugar  held  in 
the  other  hand. 

I  always  picture  him  seated  in  his  shabby  armchair,  his 
face,  which  was  still  handsome,  though  wasted  by  illness, 
bent  over  some  ponderous  tome.  He  glanced  up  occasion- 
ally, but  it  was  merely  to  fill  his  cup  from  the  samovar  2 
that  sang  so  blithely  by  his  side,  or  to  address  a  remark 
to  me, — 

"It  is  cold  to-night,  Mitia,3  very  cold!  Come  nearer 
the  fire." 

1  Porridge  made  of  rye  or  buckwheat. 

2  Tea-urn.  8  The  diminutive  of  Dmitri. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.  37 

He  shivered  constantly,  though  he  sat  close  by  the 
stove ;  but  I  was  never  cold,  and  though  I  took  care  to 
keep  up  a  roaring  fire,  it  was  solely  on  his  account.  At 
night,  he  wrapped  himself  in  a  sheepskin  robe,  and  stretch- 
ing himself  out  on  an  old  leather-covered  lounge  near  the 
stove,  he  tried  in  vain  to  sleep. 

As  for  me,  I  climbed  on  the  huge  stove,  Russian  fashion, 
and  curling  myself  up  like  a  big  dog,  I  slept  the  sound, 
dreamless  sleep  of  youth  and  perfect  health. 

When  morning  dawned,  I  jumped  down  from  my  perch, 
filled  up  the  still  warm  stove,  which  was  soon  roaring 
gayly,  made  my  father's  tea;  then  arming  myself  with  a 
birch  broom,  I  put  the  house  in  order.  It  was  not  always 
very  thoroughly  done,  I  admit ;  but  untidiness  and  disorder 
annoyed  my  father  so  much  that  I  certainly  felt  a  strong 
desire  to  perform  my  task  creditably.  It  was  to  please 
him,  too,  that  I  bathed  myself  every  morning  from 
head  to  foot  in  cold  water,  and  brushed  my  clothes  and 
his. 

Afterwards  I  ate  a  crust  of  bread  with  the  best  of  appe- 
tites, and  after  placing  some  mush  intended  for  my  father 
on  the  fire,  I  considered  myself  free  for  the  rest  of  the 
day ;  for  though  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  go  straight  to  school,  and  there  consume  my  daily 
allowance  of  arithmetic  and  geography,  I  felt  no  scruples 
about  evading  this  duty  almost  constantly.  I  always  had 
some  good  excuse  to  offer.  The  weather  was  much  too 
fine  to  think  of  shutting  oneself  up  in  a  schoolroom.  Our 
Russian  summers  are  so  short,  that  one  ought  to  make 
the  most  of  them.  September  is  a  month  of  incomparable 
beauty  with  us.  How  many  Septembers  should  I  see  in 
my  life?  Only  a  very  limited  number,  and  I  would  have 


38  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

all  the  other  months  of  the  year  to  study.  Away  then  to 
the  fields  !  In  winter,  it  was  too  cold.  I  must  needs  in- 
dulge in  some  violent  exercise  to  keep  warm.  In  the 
spring,  the  weather  was  too  warm;  besides,  I  wanted  to 
study  the  revival  of  nature.  In  short,  no  season  seemed  to 
be  adapted  to  study,  but  all  to  idleness. 

It  is  only  right  to  say  in  my  own  defence  that  though  I 
was  a  poor  student,  I  knew  every  inch  of  the  surrounding 
country,  and  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  habits  of  its 
denizens.  I  had  studied  the  customs  and  tricks  of  the  birds 
for  hours  together.  I  knew  the  tree  in  which  they  pre- 
ferred to  build  their  nest,  its  shape,  and  the  number  of 
pink,  gray,  or  blue  eggs  deposited  there ;  I  knew  the  hour 
at  which  the  foxes  start  out  on  their  foraging  expeditions ; 
I  knew  all  the  haunts  of  the  ferret,  the  polecat,  and  even 
the  shy  partridge ;  I  knew  the  hiding-place  of  the  grouse, 
and  the  pond  the  wild  ducks  most  frequented.  I  certainly 
would  have  been  an  invaluable  guide  to  a  hunter;  but  no 
one  hunted  in  our  neighborhood.  We  had  no  lord  of  the 
manor,  and  neither  my  father  nor  the  schoolmaster  cared 
for  sport.  I  had  never  even  had  a  gun  in  my  hand ;  and 
though  I  occasionally  killed  a  bird  for  my  father's  dinner, 
it  was  invariably  by  means  of  a  sling  shot. 

As  I  have  remarked  before,  I  had  no  intimate  friends 
among  the  lads  of  the  village,  nor  do  I  know  why  we  were 
so  uncongenial.  Elderly  men  generally  regarded  me  as  a 
headstrong,  idle  fellow;  the  elderly  women  disliked  me 
because  I  often  played  jokes  on  them;  their  daughters, 
because  I  made  fun  of  them  when  they  went  to  church 
arrayed  in  all  their  finery,  to  show  themselves  to  the 
young  men ;  and  the  boys  of  my  own  age  cared  as  little 
for  me  as  I  did  for  them. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.  39 

There  was  but  one  occupation  of  which  I  was  really 
fond.  Our  pope?-  Agathon  Illarionovitch  Poliakoff,  had 
organized  a  church  choir.  He  himself —  like  most 
members  of  the  Russian  clergy,  so  far  as  my  observation 
goes  —  possessed  a  remarkably  powerful  and  flexible 
bass  voice,  which  he  used  very  effectively  in  the  church 
service.  I,  whether  I  was  alone  or  in  company,  always 
had  a  song  on  my  lips.  If  words  were  lacking,  I  improvised 
them,  putting  my  own  ideas  to  any  tune  that  chanced  to 
come  into  my  head.  I  could  whistle  like  a  blackbird,  and 
there  was  no  bird  in  the  forest  whose  notes  I  could  not 
imitate  well  enough  to  deceive  his  fellows.  The  good 
priest  had  noticed  the  compass  and  sonorousness  of  my 
voice,  and  chosen  me  as  a  member  of  his  choir.  On  the 
eve  of  every  church  festival,  I  went  to  his  house  to 
practise ;  and  I  recollect  what  pleasure  it  afforded  me  to 
hear  my  voice  rise  sweet  and  clear  in  the  acauthiste,  —  a 
chant  glorifying  Christ  and  the  Virgin,  which  Agathon 
Illarionovitch  made  me  sing  on  the  feast  of  the  Nativity. 
I  see  again  the  dingy  little  church,  whose  only  adornments 
consisted  of  a  few  dilapidated  icones ;*  and  Agathon,  tall 
and  majestic,  with  his  black  beard  reaching  down  to  his 
waist,  made  the  very  rafters  ring  with  his  powerful  voice, 
while  mine,  crystalline  in  its  clearness,  soared  higher  and 
higher,  and  up  to  the  very  gates  of  heaven,  it  seemed  to  me. 
I  became  as  intoxicated  with  my  trills  and  roulades  as  any 
nightingale,  and  Agathon  and  I  made  up  for  the  deficiencies 
of  all  the  rest,  for  I  was  the  only  lad  in  Sitovka  who 
possessed  any  voice  or  ear  for  music.  All  the  others 

1  The  title  given  to  a  parish  priest  in  the  Greek  Church. 

2  Sacred  images  always  placed  in  churches  and  in  a  corner  of  each  room  in 
Russia.     Persons  salute  them  on  entering  and  departing. 


40  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

sang  terribly  out  of  tune,  and  stoutly  rebelled  against  any 
musical  instruction  whatever. 

So  Father  Agathon  held  me  in  high  esteem,  and  often 
dropped  in  of  an  evening  to  warm  himself  by  our  fire  for 
an  hour  or  two,  and  to  drink  innumerable  cups  of  tea  with 
my  father.  The  pope's  house  was,  if  possible,  even 
more  bare  and  desolate  than  ours.  Akoulina  Ivanova, 
his  wife,  was  cross  and  fault-finding.  His  sons  Luke  and 
Porphyre  were  clumsy,  ungainly  fellows.  Luke,  the  elder 
of  the  two,  had  decided  to  become  a  priest,  like  his  father  : 
but  his  lack  of  enthusiasm  as  well  as  of  fitness  for  the 
calling  always  amaze  me  when  I  think  of  it. 

Porphyre,  the  younger  son,  a  big,  moon-faced,  freckled 
fellow  about  my  own  age,  with  tiny  eyes  that  were  almost 
concealed  from  view  by  the  plumpness  of  his  cheeks,  had 
constituted  himself  my  Pylades,  and  my  alter  ego  ;  though 
why  he  should  have  done  so,  I  really  cannot  tell. 

Wherever  I  went,  he  was  sure  to  follow,  in  spite  of  my 
vehement  protests ;  and  just  when  I  was  beginning  to  think 
myself  well  rid  of  him,  I  generally  discovered  him  follow- 
ing in  my  track  like  a  dog.  Even  when  I  explained  to 
him  that  I  preferred  to  "be  alone,  and  that  his  company 
was  irksome  to  me,  it  made  no  difference  whatever.  Por- 
phyre had  resolved  that  we  should  be  friends,  and  in  spite 
of  continual  rebuffs,  he  remained  my  shadow. 

I  cannot  imagine  what  satisfaction  he  found  in  it;  in 
fact,  I  often  asked  him  that  very  question,  for  his  persist- 
ency incensed  me  so  much  that  I  did  not  pay  much  regard 
to  his  feelings.  I  very  rarely  spoke  to  him,  except  to  make 
fun  of  him.  The  poor  fellow  was  awkwardness  personified ; 
his  every  movement  was  attended  with  some  catastrophe. 
If  he  tried  to  skate,  the  ice  gave  way  under  him,  and  he 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD.  41 

fell  into  the  water ;  if  he  went  fishing,  he  invariably  pitched 
headlong  to  the  bottom  of  the  river ;  and  if  he  approached 
the  gentlest  horse,  he  was  sure  to  be  kicked.  Even  the 
village  geese  pursued  him  with  savage  cries.  He  scalded 
himself  in  drinking  his  tea ;  he  choked  himself  when  he 
ate,  and  tore  his  clothes  twenty  times  a  day,  to  his  mother's 
intense  disgust;  in  short,  he  was  the  clumsiest  and  most 
unfortunate  being  on  earth. 

He  bore  all  his  misfortunes  with  inexhaustible  patience 
however,  merely  remarking  occasionally,  with  a  wondering 
air, — 

"  Luck  is  always  against  me,  you  see." 

Poor  Agathon  Illarionovitch !  I  often  wonder  what  has 
become  of  him.  Does  he  still  wear  the  same  long,  soiled, 
snuff-colored  cassock  dangling  forlornly  against  his  dilapi- 
dated boots,  which  he  shared  with  all  the  rest  of  the  family, 
after  the  old  Russian  fashion?1  I  believe  that  music  was 
the  only  thing  that  consoled  him  for  the  manifold  trials  of 
his  life.  He  taught  me  a  host  of  melodies,  which  I  sang 
over  and  over  again  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  during  my 
wanderings.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I  was  superstitious, 
as  all  good  Russians  are  sure  to  be;  and  often  when  I 
found  myself  alone  in  the  gloomy  forest,  or  on  the  steppes, 
I  sang,  I  must  confess,  not  so  much  from  a  love  of  music 
as  to  drive  away  the  evil  spirits  that  haunt  the  forest,  —  the 
mocking  gnomes  and  the  water  nymphs,  who  have  no  power 
over  man  unless  they  can  succeed  in  enticing  him  into 
the  heart  of  their  own  kingdom.  They  endeavor  to  do 
this  by  their  singing,  which  is  even  sweeter  than  that  of 

1  One  pair  of  boots  generally  serves  for  an  entire  family,  —  father,  mother, 
and  children.  The  women,  who  often  wear  a  small  fortune  in  jewelry,  have 
no  decent  shoes,  and  peasants  usually  wrap  their  feet  up  in  rags. 


42  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  skylark.  But  I  —  to  circumvent  them  —  sang  so  loud 
that  the  wretches  could  not  make  themselves  heard.  I 
even  drove  away  by  my  singing  the  mischievous  goblin 
who  plays  so  many  tricks  upon  people,  the  uncanny  sprite 
who  entices  belated  travellers  from  the  most  familiar  paths 
by  the  dancing,  flickering  light  he  waves  before  them,  lur- 
ing them  straight  on  to  the  cold  and  dismal  marsh  where 
his  unhappy  victims  sink  to  rise  no  more.  The  sacred 
melodies  of  our  church  service  deprive  these  evil  spirits 
of  their  power,  and  make  them  flee  in  hot  haste  to  their 
secret  haunts. 

Truly  one  sees  and  hears  marvellous  things  in  the  gloom 
of  our  gigantic  forests  ! 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   HAUNTED    LAKE. 

THE  summer  of  that  year  had  been  unusually  pleasant. 
The  month  of  September  was  fast  drawing  to  a 
close,  and  already  a  silvery  sheen  was  visible  mornings 
on  the  tall  trees  whose  russet  foliage  contrasted  so  charm- 
ingly with  the  pale  blue  of  the  cloudless  sky.  A  profound 
stillness  reigned  everywhere,  and  the  impending  death  of 
nature  imparted  a  melancholy  charm  to  the  beauty  of  the 
landscape. 

I  left  home  very  early  one  morning,  for  I  had  an  unusually 
exciting  scheme  in  my  head.  A  long  way  from  Sitovka  — 
much  farther  than  I  had  ever  gone  indeed  —  there  was  a 
lake  which  I  had  long  desired  to  visit.  By  walking 
briskly,  I  might  reach  it  by  the  middle  of  the  day,  and 
explore  it  thoroughly  during  the  afternoon ;  but  I  could 
hardly  hope  to  get  home  again  until  late  at  night.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  this  prospect  did  not  trouble  me  in 
the  least;  but  I  took  good  care  to  keep  my  project  a  secret 
from  my  father,  partly  because  I  was  naturally  uncommu- 
nicative, but  chiefly  because  I  felt  almost  sure  that  he 
would  not  allow  me  to  go.  I  started  off  with  a  big  piece 
of  rye-bread  and  a  magnificent  fresh  cucumber  in  my 
pocket,  —  a  breakfast  for  a  prince  !  I  should  find  plenty  of 
water  by  the  wayside  to  quench  my  thirst 


44  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

As  I  was  passing  through  the  village  I  saw  the  master 
standing  by  the  schoolhouse  door. 

"  Dmitri,  Dmitri  Fedorovitch,  the  bell  has  rung!  "  he 
called  out  sharply. 

I  pretended  not  to  hear  him,  however. 

"Dmitri!  don't  you  hear  me?  The  bell  has  rung,  I 
tell  you !  " 

"  I  hear  you,  Master  Lebewohl,"  I  answered,  pausing  for 
an  instant,  with  my  hands  stuck  in  my  trousers'  pockets. 

"  Come  here,  then,"  cried  the  master,  flourishing  his 
stick,  as  if  he  longed  to  apply  it  to  my  shoulders. 

"  I  'm  not  coming  to  school  to-day,"  I  responded  coolly, 
resuming  my  journey. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  good-for-nothing?  Don't 
you  intend  to  come  when  I  call  you  ?  " 

But  I  only  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  walked  swiftly 
on. 

"  Those  hateful  Germans  are  all  alike,"  I  thought  con- 
temptuously. "  They  are  always  trying  to  shut  us  up  and 
make  us  as  stupid  as  themselves.  But  thank  Heaven,  I 
am  a  Russian  !  " 

And  I  continued  my  journey,  enchanted  with  life  and 
with  myself. 

I  soon  reached  the  forest  that  bounded  our  village  on 
the  east.  Here  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  stillness 
was  the  ring  of  the  woodman's  axe  attacking  some  large 
tree ;  but  as  I  walked  on,  even  this  sound  became  fainter 
and  fainter,  until  it  finally  died  away  altogether  in  the  dis- 
tance. All  around  me  giant  birches  and  ash-trees  reared 
their  tall  forms  heavenward,  the  dull  tints  of  their  bark 
making  the  bright  hues  of  their  foliage  appear  even  more 
brilliant.  Birds  flitted  blithely  from  branch  to  branch; 


THE  HAUNTED  LAKE.  45 

ever  and  anon  a  bushy-tailed  squirrel  ran  across  the  path 
in  front  of  me ;  and  beautiful  flowers  bloomed  on  every 
side,  while  at  the  base  of  many  large  trees  there  was  a 
luxuriant  growth  of  mushrooms  of  even  more  gorgeous 
coloring  than  the  flowers.  To  each  denizen  of  this  pri- 
meval forest  I  addressed,  in  turn,  a  few  friendly  remarks. 

"  Yes,  brother,"  I  said  to  the  squirrel,  "  lay  up  a  good 
store  of  nuts  for  winter  use.  You  '11  need  them  for  at 
least  nine  months,  you  poor  little  creature!  Take  good 
care,  too,  that  the  cunning  old  wolf  does  n't  catch  you ! 
Sing  on,  pretty  bird,  sing  on,  while  the  sunshine  lasts ! 
Soon  we  shall  find  your  little  bodies  cold  and  lifeless  in 
the  snow,  —  and  you  will  not  revive  again  in  the  spring 
time,  like  your  sisters,  the  flowers.  It  seems  hard  that  you 
must  die,  — you,  who  are  so  gay  and  full  of  life;  but  it  is 
some  comfort  to  think  that  you  do  not  know  what  is  in 
store  for  you  !  " 

When  I  reached  the  farther  edge  of  the  forest,  I  saw  by 
the  position  of  the  sun  in  the  heavens  that  it  was  past  mid- 
day ;  so  I  seated  myself  on  the  edge  of  a  little  brook  whose 
waters  were  of  crystalline  clearness,  and  ate  my  lunch 
with  great  enjoyment. 

As  I  ate,  I  laughed  at  the  recollection  of  the  school- 
master's rueful  countenance. 

"  That  poor  idiot  of  a  German  does  n't  know  how  de- 
lightful it  is  to  roam  about  through  the  woods  and  fields," 
I  soliloquized.  "  He  never  leaves  his  stuffy  old  cottage 
except  to  smoke  his  pipe  on  his  doorstep,  and  even  then 
he  always  has  a  book  in  his  hand.  I  can't  imagine  what 
he  finds  so  very  interesting  in  his  books.  Perhaps  they 
tell  about  the  poor  wretches  who  never  have  any  winter. 
I  wonder  how  those  French  people  stand  it.  Father  has 


46  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

told  me  about  that  Bonapartichko 1  who  came  here  to 
destroy  our  homes  and  take  Moscow.  But  our  good 
soldiers  sent  him  back  to  his  own  country  on  the  double- 
quick.  I  wish  I  had  been  living  in  those  days !  How  I 
should  have  enjoyed  knocking  him  on  the  head  with  a 
stout  cudgel !  But  our  brave  prince  Mika'flo  Illarionovitch 
Smolenski,  with  God's  help,  did  it  without  me." 

My  ideas  of  history  were  certainly  very  vague.  I  was 
about  nine  years  old  at  the  time,  and  my  father  often 
laughed  heartily  at  my  ignorance  then,  and  afterwards. 

"  He  will  have  plenty  of  time  to  learn  all  that,"  he 
remarked  one  day  to  the  schoolmaster.  "  He  is  bright 
enough,  and  so  obstinate,  that  when  he  takes  it  into  his 
head  to  study,  he  will  come  out  as  well  as  any  of  them. 
Isn't  that  so,  Mitia?" 

"  Yes,  Father." 

"  You  are  going  to  know  a  great  deal  some  day,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,  Father,  as  much  as  you  know." 

"But  how  are  you  going  to  learn  it?  By  sleeping  and 
eating?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  take  your  books  and  read  them." 

"But  what  if  you  are  not  able  to  read  them?  They  are 
written  in  French  and  Greek  and  Latin." 

"  Then  I  shall  send  for  a  Frenchman  and  just  say  to 
him,  '  Teach  me  your  lingo ;  '  and  if  he  refuses  I  '11  knock 
him  down." 

And  my  father  laughed  as  poor  Lebewohl  departed, 
wringing  his  hands  and  exclaiming, — 

"  What  savages  !     Good  heavens  !  what  savages !  " 

But  one  day  —  I  was  listening  to   their  conversation, 

1  A  contemptuous  name  for  Bonaparte. 


THE  HAUNTED  LAKE.  47 

though  I  did  not  let  them  know  it  —  I  heard  my  father 
explain  his  theory. 

"  Don't  lose  patience,  Diedouchka"  l  he  said  pleasantly 
to  the  schoolmaster.  "  You  see  what  I  am,  —  a  broken- 
down  consumptive,  who  goes  around  wheezing  and  cough- 
ing worse  than  any  old  horse,  though  I  am  not  much  over 
thirty  years  of  age.  /  have  never  known  what  it  is  to  be 
really  well,  and  all  on  account  of  the  life  I  led  as  a  child. 
I  was  born  delicate,  and  needed  an  outdoor  life  and  plenty 
of  room  and  freedom.  Instead  of  that,  I  grew  up  in  a  town, 
and  studied  hard  from  my  earliest  childhood,  only  to  dis- 
cover toward  the  end  of  my  days,  that  what  I  know  is 
nothing  in  comparison  with  what  I  do  not  know.  I  don't 
want  it  to  be  so  with  this  boy ;  I  want  him  to  know,  at  least 
during  the  early  years  of  his  life,  what  real  enjoyment  is, 

—  mere  animal  enjoyment,  you  may  call  it  if  you  like,  — 
but  the  genuine  happiness  and  enjoyment  that  health  and 
strength  and   freedom  alone  can  give.     I  have  succeeded, 

—  the  lad  is  hardy  and  honest  and  strong.     He  is  no  more 
stupid  than  many  of  your  so-called  prodigies ;  and  if  I  am 
spared  a  few  years  longer,  I  shall  have  no  difficulty  in 
convincing  him  how  disgraceful  it  would  be  for  a  grown 
man  to  live  in  ignorance.    I  have  no  fears  for  his  future,  for 
I  firmly  believe  that  the  superb  health  with  which  I  have 
endowed  him  will  be  of  invaluable  assistance  to  him  in  his 
future  studies.     Ah,  if  I  but  dared  to  hope  that  I  might 
live  until  he  reached  the  age  of  twenty,  I  should  have  no 
cause  to  blush  for  him,  I  am  satisfied  of  that !  " 

It  seems  to  me  I  can  hear  him  now.  My  beloved 
father!  no;  you  shall  have  no  cause  to  blush  for  your 

1  "  Dear  little  uncle,"  an  appellation  familiarly  applied  to  elderly  persons 
in  Russia. 


48  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

son,  —  I  swear  it !  And  if  you  could  read  my  heart,  you 
would  not  blush  for  me  even  now,  in  spite  of  the  ignomini- 
ous position  in  which  I  find  myself.  I  never  told  you  an 
untruth.  You,  at  least,  would  not  doubt  my  word.  You 
would  feel  sure  of  my  innocence. 

But  to  resume  my  story:  refreshed  by  my  repast,  I 
rose  to  my  feet,  and  casting  a  last  lingering  look  at  the 
cool,  shady  forest,  I  directed  my  steps  toward  a  high  hill 
some  distance  off,  on  the  other  side  of  which  lay  the  lake 
I  had  long  desired  to  visit. 

This  sheet  of  water  bore  a  very  unenviable  reputation, 
however.  It  was  rumored  that  a  traveller  had  been  mur- 
dered upon  its  shores  many  years  before ;  that  his  body 
had  been  cast  into  its  dark  waters ;  and  that  his  voice  could 
be  distinctly  heard  on  calm  nights,  and  those  whom  he 
called  by  name  must  expect  to  die  during  the  year.  For 
this  reason  it  was  known  as  the  Haunted  Lake,  and  it 
played  quite  an  important  part  in  the  legends  of  our 
village. 

It  was  also  considered  a  very  dangerous  spot  on  account 
of  the  many  quicksands  which  bordered  it,  and  in  which 
one's  feet  sank  deeper  and  deeper  until  the  black,  slimy 
mud  closed  over  one's  head.  It  was  useless  to  struggle, 
or  cling  to  the  tall  rushes  that  grew  there  in  such  profusion, 
—  for  having  no  roots,  they  yielded  to  your  touch  ;  and  the 
treacherous  slime  rose  higher  and  higher  until  one  dis- 
appeared from  sight,  and  only  the  widening  circles  on  the 
silent  surface  of  the  gloomy  lake  revealed  one  's  horrible 
fate. 

I  had  long  been  tormented  by  a  desire  to  visit  the  spot 
I  would  be  so  prudent !  I  had  no  fears  that  the  quick- 
sands would  engulf  me,  with  my  trusty  stick  to  test  each 


THE  HAUNTED  LAKE.  49 

foot  of  ground  before  I  ventured  upon  it,  and  with  my  new 
shoes  made  of  bark,  in  which  I  felt  as  light  as  a  fawn. 

I  walked  steadily  on  toward  the  hill,  through  the  luxu- 
riant growth  of  flowers  and  reeds  that  covered  the  plain ; 
but  strange  to  say,  as  I  advanced,  the  eminence  seemed  to 
be  farther  and  farther  away,  and  by  the  time  I  reached  the 
summit  the  sun  was  nearing  the  horizon,  and  I  was  very 
tired. 

I  paused  for  a  moment  to  rest  and  gaze  eagerly  at  the 
untried  but  alluring  region  that  stretched  before  me. 
Yes,  there  lay  the  famous  lake  at  the  foot  of  a  small 
mountain,  its  waters  sparkling  brightly  in  the  oblique  rays 
of  the  fast  declining  sun,  and  bordered  on  the  side  nearest 
me  by  a  dense  belt  of  gloomy  pines.  There  lay  the 
Haunted  Lake  ;  but  I  must  needs  make  haste  if  I  wished  to 
reach  it,  explore  its  shores,  and  return  to  Sitovka  before 
my  father  became  alarmed  at  my  prolonged  absence. 

It  took  me  only  a  few  moments  to  descend  the  hill,  so  I 
soon  found  myself  among  the  pines,  and  I  must  confess 
that  my  heart  throbbed  a  little  faster  than  usual  as  I  made 
my  way  through  these  grim  and  motionless  sentinels ;  but 
nothing  could  have  induced  me  to  turn  back  now,  or  even 
to  admit  to  myself  that  the  decidedly  creepy  feeling  that 
stole  over  me  was  fear. 

But  after  all,  the  coward  who  realizes  his  terror,  but  con- 
quers it  and  marches  straight  into  danger,  is  more  worthy 
of  admiration  than  the  hero  who  courts  it  without  a  change 
of  color,  merely  because  the  sensation  of  fear  is  unknown 
to  him.  Without  troubling  myself  in  the  least  about  these 
subtle  distinctions  however,  I  hastened  on,  and  at  last 
reached  the  lake,  whose  deep  and  motionless  waters  were 
now  of  almost  inky  blackness  in  the  gathering  twilight. 

4 


5O  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Several  immense  birds  of  prey  were  circling  slowly  through 
the  air  above  it,  and  the  whole  scene  was  inexpressibly 
gloomy  and  awe-inspiring. 

Suddenly,  as  I  stood  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  large 
tree,  surveying  the  dark  waters  with  fascinated  eyes,  a 
sharp,  wild,  despairing  cry  broke  the  profound  stillness. 

The  blood  curdled  in  my  veins,  and  my  knees  shook 
under  me.  Was  it  the  murdered  man  calling  me?  I  was 
lost !  With  a  trembling  hand  I  made  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
and  turned  to  flee,  when  the  shrill  wail  resounded  again, 
and  this  time  I  clearly  distinguished  the  words,  — 

"  Mamouchka  !   Mamouchka !  "  l 

I  was  ashamed  of  myself.  All  my  fears  vanished,  as  if 
by  magic,  and  I  blushed  to  the  very  roots  of  my  hair  at 
the  thought  of  my  cowardice.  Without  any  further  hesita- 
tion I  dashed  off  through  the  briers  and  bushes,  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  sound  had  seemed  to  proceed, 
and  a  deplorable  sight  soon  greeted  my  eyes. 

A  woman  clothed  in  rags  was  lying  motionless  on  the 
ground.  Beside  her  knelt  a  little  girl  about  four  years 
old,  who  was  trying  to  arouse  her  by  plaintive  cries,  and 
to  lift  the  head,  which  fell  back  inertly  upon  the  ground 
after  each  attempt. 

I  instinctively  felt  that  the  poor  woman  was  dead ;  but 
how  long  had  she  lain  there?  Where  could  she  and  the 
child  have  come  from?  The  little  girl  was  clad  in  a 
shabby  old  pelisse,  and  her  long  dark  hair  streamed  from 
beneath  a  tattered  red  handkerchief  down  over  her  face 
and  eyes.  She  was  so  slender  and  so  dark  complexioned, 
with  her  delicate  features  and  immense  eyes,  that  at  first  I 
was  inclined  to  take  her  for  a  witch's  child.  Certainly  the 

1  "  Little  mother." 


THE  HAUNTED  LAKE.  51 

tiny  creature  possessed  none  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
popular  type  of  Russian  beauty,  —  namely,  a  plump  pink 
and  white  face,  with  coral  lips,  flaxen  hair,  and  large, 
broad  feet  to  furnish  a  substantial  support  for  the  body. 
The  child  had  raised  her  head  on  hearing  a  crackling 
sound  in  the  bushes,  and  her  lustrous,  dark  eyes  were  now 
riveted  on  my  face.  For  a  minute  or  two  I  stood  silent 
and  motionless,  so  intense  was  my  astonishment. 

"  Come  and  wake  Mamouchka,"  she  called  out  to  me 
suddenly.  "  She  is  sleeping  too  long." 

She  spoke  very  indistinctly,  and  I  scarcely  know  how 
I  managed  to  understand  her;  but  I  did,  and  in  another 
moment  I  was  kneeling  by  the  dead  woman's  side.  I 
took  her  cold  and  rigid  hand  gently  in  mine,  then  silently 
replaced  it  on  the  ground.  She  was  dead ;  there  could  be 
no  doubt  of  it. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from?"  I  asked  gently. 

"From  over  there,"  replied  the  child,  vaguely. 

"And  where  are  the  others?  Had  you  no  compan- 
ions? " 

"  No ;  they  went  with  the  horses." 

I  had  already  noticed  that  the  grass  around  us  was  much 
trampled,  and  that  the  prints  of  horses'  hoofs  were  plainly 
visible  on  the  turf. 

"  Did  your  father  go,  too?"  I  asked.  But  the  child  did 
not  seem  to  understand  me. 

"  Wake  her  up  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  Wake  her  up,  quick ! 
I  don't  want  to  stay  here  any  longer." 

"What  is  your  name?  Where  would  you  like  me  to 
take  you? "I  continued. 

But  she  only  sobbed  wildly,  without  replying.  I  was 
still  kneeling  beside  her,  uncertain  what  to  say  or  do, 


52  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

when  she  hastily  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  throwing  her 
arms  around  my  neck,  cried  imploringly,  — 

"  Oh,  take  me  away !  take  me  away  from  here !  Let  us 
go  now." 

The  caress  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes;  and  without 
stopping  to  reflect  any  longer,  I  gave  her  a  warm  embrace, 
and  said  resolutely,  — 

"  Come,  then,  you  shall  be  my  little  sister,  and  Fedor 
Illitch  shall  be  your  father." 

"And  Mamouchka?"  she  asked,  as  I  arose  and  took 
her  by  the  hand. 

"  We  will  come  back  for  her.     She  is  sleeping  now." 

"Wake  her  up,  wake  her  up,  you  nice  boy,"  she 
pleaded. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  come  with  me  now,  and  I  promise  you 
we  will  return  for  her  by  and  by." 

Taking  off  my  coat,  I  laid  it  reverently  over  the  face  of 
the  dead,  fastening  it  down  securely  at  the  edges  with  some 
large  stones ;  then  with  feverish  haste  I  piled  some  boughs 
over  her  to  form  a  sort  of  shelter ;  and  sure  now  that  the 
remains  would  be  safe  until  we  could  give  them  Christian 
burial,  I  again  took  the  child  by  the  hand,  saying  firmly,  — 

"  You  must  come  with  me  now.  It  is  getting  late.  We 
will  return  for  your  mother  presently." 

The  poor  little  thing  followed  me  submissively,  though 
not  without  casting  many  a  tearful  glance  behind  her. 
Poor  child,  my  heart  bled  for  her!  I  loved  my  own 
father  so  much  that  I  could  truly  sympathize  with  the 
desolate  little  creature  whose  cold  and  trembling  hand  lay 
so  confidingly  in  mine.  Soon  she  paused,  too  exhausted 
with  hunger  and  fatigue  to  take  another  step.  Without 
an  instant's  hesitation,  I  took  her  up  in  my  arms;  she 


MY   FATHER   APPEARED   UPON   THE   THRESHOLD,    LAMP    IN 
HAND." 


THE  HAUNTED  LAKE.  55 

slipped  hers  around  my  neck,  and  in  another  minute  she 
was  sound  asleep. 

Oh,  how  interminable  the  road  seemed  to  me !  One  by 
one  the  stars  appeared  in  the  firmament  above  me,  as  I 
staggered  on  with  my  heavy  burden.  How  little  progress 
I  seemed  to  make !  Again  and  again  I  paused,  completely 
out  of  breath,  and  covered  with  perspiration ;  but  the  child 
slept  quietly  on. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  I  emerged  from  the 
forest,  and  saw  the  broad  highway  before  me,  and  a  light 
shining  in  the  window  of  the  little  cottage  where  my  father 
was  doubtless  anxiously  awaiting  my  return. 

Summoning  up  all  my  strength,  I  hastened  through  the 
village  almost  on  a  run,  and  at  last  reached  our  house. 
Before  I  had  time  to  rap,  the  door  was  hastily  thrown 
open,  and  my  father  appeared  upon  the  threshold,  lamp 
in  hand. 

"  Is  it  you,  Dmitri?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  Father." 

"  Heaven  be  praised !  Come  in ;  you  have  frightened 
me  half  to  death,  child.  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

I  had  dropped  down  exhausted  upon  a  bench  that  stood 
against  the  wall  near  the  door,  and  it  was  not  until  my 
father  had  placed  the  lamp  on  the  table  and  again  turned 
to  me,  that  he  noticed  the  child  in  my  arms. 

"What  have  you  there?"  he  cried  in  great  astonishment. 

"I  found  her  in  the  woods;  her  mother  is  dead,  so  I 
brought  her  home  with  me,"  I  faltered,  for  all  my  strength 
seemed  to  have  suddenly  deserted  me. 

My  father  perceived  this  fact,  and  without  asking  me 
any  further  questions,  he  hastily  poured  out  a  large 
tumbler  of  tea,  and  added  a  few  drops  of  rum  to  it. 


56  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  Drink  this  first,  and  tell  me  all  about  it  afterwards," 
he  said  kindly. 

I  obeyed ;  and  after  draining  the  glass  at  a  single  draught 
I  was  myself  again. 

Meanwhile,  my  father  had  taken  the  little  girl  from  me, 
and  without  waking  her,  had  deposited  her  gently  in  a  big 
armchair  near  the  stove.  I  followed  him ;  and  as  I  gave 
him  a  brief  account  of  my  adventure,  he  listened  gravely, 
gazing  thoughtfully  all  the  while  at  the  face  and  garments 
of  the  little  waif.  Her  clothing  was  entirely  different  in 
style  and  cut  from  any  we  had  ever  seen,  and  the  child 
herself  was  of  an  essentially  foreign  type. 

"  It  is  more  than  likely  that  the  mother,  being  too  weak 
to  go  any  farther,  was  deserted  by  one  of  those  bands  of 
roving  Cossacks  that  frequent  the  banks  of  the  Don," 
remarked  my  father,  when  I  had  finished  my  story.  "  It 
is  fortunate  indeed,  Mitia,  that  you  chanced  to  go  to  the 
lake  to-day;  as  but  for  you  the  child  would  doubtless 
have  shared  the  fate  of  her  unfortunate  mother." 

"You  will  keep  her,  Father, will  you  not?"  I  pleaded. 

He  bowed  his  head  gravely,  in  token  of  assent. 

"  I  shall  have  two  children  now,  instead  of  one,"  he 
remarked.  "Did  she  tell  you  her  name?" 

"  She  did  n't  even  seem  to  understand  what  I  meant  when 
I  asked  her." 

"  Then  we  will  call  her  Sacha,1  after  your  dear  mother," 
said  my  father,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  emotion. 

And  from  that  day  I  had  a  sister. 

1  A  contraction  of  Alexandra. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SACHA. 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  my  father  started  off  in  his 
tfltgue  in  company  with  the  pope  and  the  village 
grave-digger.  I  begged  hard  to  accompany  them ;  but  he 
convinced  me  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  remain  at 
home,  in  order  that  I  might  be  at  hand  to  quiet  the  little 
girl's  fears  when  she  woke  and  found  herself  in  a  strange 
place  without  her  mother. 

Good  Agathon  Illarionovitch  objected  to  going  at  first, 
on  the  plea  that  nobody  knew  what  kind  of  people  these 
strangers  were.  Very  possibly,  judging  from  the  child's 
appearance,  they  might  be  gypsies  or  Tartars  or  some 
other  kind  of  heathen. 

He  could  not  reconcile  it  with  his  own  conscience  to 
bury  the  poor  woman  among  his  parishioners ;  and  though 
he  finally  consented  to  honor  her  interment  with  a  prayer, 
it  was  only  on  condition  that  she  should  be  buried  alone  on 
the  border  of  the  Haunted  Lake,  and  that  my  father 
would  allow  him  to  baptize  the  little  girl  on  his  return. 

This  was  done,  and  the  little  waif  received  the  names  of 
Alexandra  F^derovna. 

In  fact,  it  was  the  touch  of  the  baptismal  water  upon 
her  forehead  that  awakened  her  from  her  long  sleep.  She 
started  violently  and  cast  a  terrified  glance  around  her. 
My  father  was  holding  her  in  his  arms ;  Agathon,  stand- 


58  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

ing  before  the  sacred  images,  with  eyes  devoutly  raised  to 
heaven,  had  just  placed  his  hands  upon  her  head,  and  I  was 
kneeling  beside  him  holding  the  cup  of  holy  water. 

Though  evidently  much  frightened,  the  child  did  not 
move,  but  allowed  the  rite  to  be  completed  in  silence. 
When  it  was  over,  my  father  set  her  gently  on  the  floor, 
and  after  kissing  her  on  the  forehead,  left  the  house  with 
the  pope. 

The  little  girl  rushed  to  me. 

"Where  is  my  mamma?"  she  whispered,  seizing  my 
hand.  "  Come  and  find  her." 

"  Your  mamma  is  not  here,  my  little  dear.  She  is  in 
heaven." 

"Where?     I  want  to  see  her,  —  quick  !  " 

"  You  can't  see  her  now,  my  poor  little  dove.  You  are 
going  to  live  with  us  now,  and  I  will  be  your  brother." 

The  child  pushed  me  violently  away  and  burst  into  a  fit 
of  sobbing.  Then  rushing  wildly  to  the  door,  she  tried  to 
open  it  with  her  little  hands,  and  failing  in  this,  threw  her- 
self upon  the  floor,  sobbing  even  more  violently  than 
before.  I  was  miserable.  I  did  not  know  how  to  console 
her  in  her  terrible  affliction;  but  seating  myself  on  the 
floor  beside  her,  I  put  my  arm  tenderly  around  her,  and 
whispered,  — 

"  Don't  drive  me  away,  little  sister.  I  will  love  you  so 
much  that  you  won't  be  unhappy,  especially  when  you 
find  out  how  kind  my  father  is.  We  won't  forget  your 
mamma ;  we  '11  talk  of  her  every  day,  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  Mamma,  Mamma !  "  repeated  the  child,  with  a 
heart-rending  sob ;  but  she  no  longer  repulsed  me,  and  soon 
began  to  weep  more  quietly,  with  her  head  resting  upon 
my  shoulder. 


SACHA.  59 

Her  tears  ceasing  at  last,  I  laid  her  on  the  lounge  and 
ran  to  the  baker's,  where  I  bought  a  warm  roll,  which  I 
placed  before  her,  together  with  a  large  bowl  of  milk. 
Accustomed  to  eat  with  the  appetite  of  a  young  wolf  my- 
self, I  was  greatly  surprised  and  disconcerted  to  see  how 
little  my  prot£g$e  seemed  to  appreciate  the  fine  breakfast 
I  had  prepared  for  her.  She  ate  but  little  more  than  a 
bird,  and  scarcely  touched  her  lips  to  the  bowl  of  creamy 
milk,  though  she  could  have  partaken  of  no  other  nourish- 
ment for  a  long  time. 

After  she  finished  eating,  I  thought  I  would  try  to  comb 
the  long  hair  which  hung  in  such  disorder  about  her  pretty 
face ;  but  this  attempt  proved  a  failure.  She  began  to  cry, 
and  I  was  standing  before  her,  comb  in  hand,  greatly  per- 
plexed, when  my  father  entered. 

He  laughed  heartily  on  seeing  us. 

"  You  have  n't  had  experience  enough  for  that,  I  fear, 
my  boy,"  he  said  kindly,  "  so  I  've  brought  Tatiana  to  look 
after  my  little  daughter.  Come  in,  Tatiana,  don't  be  afraid." 

A  buxom,  rosy-cheeked  girl,  the  niece  of  the  village 
elder,  was  standing  on  the  threshold,  giggling  and  hiding 
her  face  in  her  sleeve. 

"  Dress  her  from  head  to  foot  as  I  asked  you,  Tatiana," 
continued  my  father ;  "  and  I  '11  attend  you  all  for  nothing 
as  long  as  you  live." 

"  You  would  do  that  anyway,  Fedor  Illitch,"  replied  the 
girl,  laughing. 

And  it  was  really  so.  My  father  seldom  received  a 
grivenik?  much  less  a  rouble?  from  his  patients.  They  paid 

1  A  Russian  coin  equivalent  to  about  twelve  and  one-half  cents  in  United 
States  currency. 

2  A  Russian  coin  equivalent  to  about  seventy-five  cents  in  United  States 
currency. 


60  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

him  in  affection,  in  respect,  in  household  provisions,  and  in 
hay ;  but  he  never  complained,  and  attended  the  poorest 
peasant  in  Sitovka  as  faithfully  as  he  would  a  baroness. 

Little  Sacha  tried  to  hide  herself  behind  me,  but  Tatiana 
picked  her  up  and  carried  her  home.  Half  an  hour  after- 
wards she  brought  her  back  to  us,  transformed.  The  child's 
luxuriant  brown  hair  had  been  neatly  combed  and  ar- 
ranged in  two  heavy  braids,  and  she  wore  a  pretty  scarlet 
skirt  and  a  white  chemisette,  tucked  and  embroidered  at 
the  throat  and  wrists.  Tatiana  had  not  even  neglected  to 
put  around  her  neck  the  necklace  of  amber  beads  worn  by 
all  Russian  girls. 

I  clapped  my  hands  with  delight ;  my  father,  too,  seemed 
well  pleased. 

"  See  what  I  found  around  the  little  girl's  neck,  Fedor 
Illitch,"  said  Tatiana,  holding  up  a  round  medal,  or  amulet, 
made  of  platinum.  Upon  it  was  inscribed  in  gold  the 
letters  A.  I.  B. 

"  Perhaps  this  will  assist  us  in  discovering  the  child's 
relatives  some  day,"  remarked  my  father,  after  examining 
it  long  and  carefully.  "  We  must  take  good  care  of  it.  It 
is  the  only  clew  we  have.  I  thank  you  for  the  trouble  you 
have  taken,  Tatiana.  You  're  a  good  girl.  Now  will  you 
oblige  me  by  continuing  to  take  charge  of  her  until  she  is 
old  enough  to  take  care  of  herself  ?  All  the  village  children 
are  fond  of  you,  and  it  is  because  you  love  them  and  are 
kind  to  them ;  so  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  not  annoy  you  by 
asking  this  favor." 

"  I  '11  take  charge  of  her  very  willingly,  Fedor  Illitch. 
I  was  almost  afraid  of  her  at  first,  she  looked  so  wild 
and  implike ;  but  she  looks  very  different  now  she 's 
been  washed  and  dressed,  and  I  think  I  shall  soon  get 


SACHA.  6 1 

really  fond  of  her.  I  believe  you  will  love  me,  too,  eh, 
Sacha?" 

But  Sacha's  heart  was  not  so  easily  won.  As  soon  as 
she  returned,  she  again  hid  herself  behind  me,  keep- 
ing a  tight  hold  on  my  hand.  Tatiana  smiled  good 
naturedly,  however,  and  departed,  promising  to  return  on 
the  morrow. 

From  that  day,  Sacha  and  I  were  inseparable.  She  re- 
mained rather  shy  and  reserved  toward  every  one  except 
my  father;  but  she  accepted  me  without  reserve  as  a 
brother,  and  in  six  months  I  found  it  hard  to  believe  that  I 
was  not  so  in  reality.  She  was  very  bright  and  intelligent. 
It  was  never  necessary  to  repeat  anything  to  her  twice ; 
she  seemed  to  comprehend  an  explanation  instantly.  In  a 
few  weeks,  she  spoke  Russian  with  ease,  and  French 
seemed  equally  easy  to  her ;  but  all  her  childish  memories 
seemed  to  be  enshrouded  in  mystery  and  gloom.  She 
had  an  indistinct  recollection  of  a  long  and  fatiguing  jour- 
ney, wild  horses,  and  savage  looking  men;  but  these 
memories  seemed  to  excite  and  terrify  her  so  much  that 
my  father  forbade  me  to  make  the  slightest  allusion  to 
them,  and  gradually  all  remembrance  of  this  mysterious 
past  faded  from  her  mind. 

My  little  sister  soon  learned  to  dress  herself  without 
assistance,  and  after  watching  my  awkward  attempts  at 
housework  for  some  time,  she  relieved  me  of  my  duties  and 
of  my  broom,  to  my  infinite  delight. 

Sacha  seemed  even  less  inclined  to  associate  with  the 
village  children  than  I  was.  The  strange  way  in  which  I 
happened  to  find  her  created  quite  a  sensation  at  first ;  but 
the  Russian  peasant  is  a  stolid  creature  who  takes  very 
little  interest  in  his  neighbors'  affairs,  and  the  affair  was 


62  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

soon  forgotten.  True,  a  schoolboy  called  her  "  that 
gypsy  brat "  one  day  ;  but  I  turned  on  him  then  and  there, 
and  gave  him  such  a  thrashing  that  he  never  repeated  the 
offence,  at  least  in  my  hearing. 

I  must  not  forget  that  Porphyre  also  espoused  Sacha's 
cause  very  warmly,  and  came  out  of  the  fight  with  a  fine 
black  eye.  His  valor  softened  my  heart  a  little,  and  con- 
vinced me  that  there  might  be  some  good  in  the  fellow 
after  all.  Sacha,  however,  was  not  in  the  least  touched  by 
his  devotion,  but  made  open  fun  of  his  awkwardness  and 
stupidity  upon  all  occasions,  and  I  must  admit  that  I  was 
only  too  willing  to  second  her. 

Not  that  Sacha  and  I  were  always  on  the  best  of  terms, 
however.  Far  from  it.  We  had  quarrels  in  plenty.  At 
first  her  sorrow  and  loneliness  made  me  her  willing  slave, 
and  I  submitted  to  her  slightest  caprice  without  a  murmur ; 
but  as  I  grew  older,  I  became  a  terrible  tease.  Sacha  was 
jealous  and  very  sensitive,  and  it  did  not  take  me  long  to 
discover  the  fact.  The  merest  trifle  —  an  affectionate  word 
from  my  father  to  me,  or  from  me  to  my  father,  or  a  caress 
bestowed  upon  Vodka  —  often  sufficed  to  excite  her  wrath 
and  jealousy.  After  an  incident  of  this  kind,  she  usually 
fled  to  the  woods,  and  sometimes  refused  to  speak  to 
me  for  days  afterwards.  Her  subsequent  penitence  was 
equally  profound.  I  possessed  a  much  more  equable 
temperament,  and  thought  little  Sacha's  paroxysms  of  grief 
and  anger  the  strangest  and  most  amusing  thing  in  the 
world;  so,  though  I  really  loved  her  devotedly,  I  often 
made  her  very  unhappy. 

My  father  never  paid  any  attention  to  our  quarrels, 
while  Sacha  was  generous  to  a  fault,  and  nothing  could 
have  induced  her  to  complain  of  me.  I  well  remember  the 


SACHA.  63 

jealousy  my  dog,  Snap,  aroused  in  the  heart  of  my  little 
sister.  He  was  given  to  me  two  or  three  years  after 
Sacha's  arrival  in  our  midst  by  a  nobleman  who  happened 
to  be  in  our  village.  This  baron  was  an  impecunious 
cousin  of  Mme.  Lebanon0,  who  had  taken  him  into  her 
household,  —  a  very  common  thing  in  Russia.  His  dog, 
while  running  across  a  field  near  our  house,  fell  into  a  trap 
that  had  been  set  for  a  wolf,  and  his  leg  was  badly  injured. 
He  suffered  terribly,  —  so  terribly  indeed,  that  his  owner  was 
on  the  point  of  shooting  him  to  put  him  out  of  his  misery. 

Hearing  the  noise,  Sacha  and  I  hastened  to  the  spot. 

The  poor  dog  was  lying  on  the  ground,  moaning  and 
licking  his  injured  paw,  and  gazing  up  beseechingly  at  his 
master,  a  fine  looking,  elderly  gentleman,  who  seemed 
deeply  distressed  to  see  his  faithful  hound  in  such  a  sorry 
condition. 

"What  is  to  be  done,  Stepan?"  he  asked,  turning  to 
the  servant  in  attendance. 

"  It 's  only  a  dog,"  the  man  replied,  shrugging  his 
shoulders. 

"  Yes,  but  a  very  valuable  dog,  you  idiot !  One  of  the 
finest  dogs  in  the  country,  —  a  dog  that  the  princess  im- 
ported from  France.  How  very  annoying !  I  would 
much  rather  it  was  you,  Stepan.  But  don't  stand  there 
like  a  gaping  idiot.  What  is  to  be  done?  Can't  you 
suggest  something?" 

"It  is  for  you  to  say,  of  course,  Arcadion  Semonovitch." 

"  Would  you  kill  him  to  put  him  out  of  his  misery,  if 
you  were  in  my  place?" 

"  There  would  be  one  dog  less  in  the  world,  that  is  all." 

"  Poor  Snap,"  murmured  the  gentleman,  patting  the 
dog  on  the  head.  "  I  cannot  leave  you  here,  and  I  can't 


64  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

take  you  with  me,  as  we  start  for  Paris  to-morrow;  so  I 
shall  have  to  kill  you.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  shall  be  com- 
mitting a  murder,  though,"  he  added,  averting  his  face, 
which  was  pale  with  emotion. 

The  dog,  who  had  been  watching  his  master's  every 
movement  with  evident  anxiety,  pricked  up  his  ears  as 
the  gentleman  slowly  raised  his  gun. 

I  ran  to  him. 

"  Don't  kill  the  dog,  Baron !  "  I  cried.  "  Give  him  to 
me  instead." 

"  What  will  you  do  with  him?  Don't  you  see  that  he  is 
badly  hurt?  I  fear  his  back  is  broken." 

"  That  makes  no  difference.  Don't  kill  him.  I  '11  take 
good  care  of  him,  and  if  he  can  be  cured,  I  '11  cure 
him." 

"  ~Butyou  can't  cure  him." 

"  Let  me  try,  please  let  me  try !  It  will  spare  you  the 
pain  of  killing  him." 

"But  will  you  know  what  to  do  for  him  if  I  leave 
him?" 

"  My  father  is  a  doctor,  and  he  will  tell  me  what  to  do 
to  cure  the  dog." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  '11  give  him  to  you.  Poor  Snap  !  to 
think  that  you  will  end  your  days  in  a  Sitovka  hovel !  It 
is  hard.  But  you  're  not  a  bad-looking  boy,  after  all,"  he 
added,  turning  to  me.  "  Take  good  care  of  him.  Here  's 
a  rouble  for  you." 

He  threw  a  piece  of  money  at  me  as  he  spoke. 

Crimson  with  anger,  I  picked  it  up  and  tried  to  return  it 
to  him. 

"  I  did  not  ask  for  pay,  Arcadion  Semonovitch,"  I  said 
haughtily. 


SACHA.  65 

"  Indeed  !  what  fine  gentleman  is  this?  He  has  quite  a 
lordly  air !  "  he  exclaimed  in  French.  "  Keep  the  money, 
I  don't  want  it,"  he  added  in  Russian. 

"  Nor  do  I !  "  I  retorted,  also  in  French,  which  seemed 
to  surprise  him  very  much.  "  Here,  take  it !  "  I  cried, 
turning  angrily  to  Stepan,  and  throwing  it  straight  in 
his  face. 

Stepan  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  pocketed  the  coin. 
The  baron  picked  up  his  gun,  bestowed  a  last  caress  on 
his  dog,  and  walked  away  without  honoring  me  with  an- 
other glance.  The  faithful  animal  attempted  to  get  up 
and  follow  his  master,  but  sank  down  again  with  a  long, 
lugubrious  howl. 

Sacha,  who  had  not  spoken  up  to  that  time,  clutched 
me  wildly  by  the  arm,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  I  'm  afraid,  Mitia !     Let  us  go,  I  'm  afraid  of  him !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  I  retorted  angrily.  "  The  dog  only  shows 
his  sense  by  crying  for  his  master.  There,  there,"  I  added, 
stroking  his  handsome  head ;  "  don't  grieve,  my  good  fel- 
low ;  I  '11  take  care  of  you  and  cure  you,  and  you  '11  soon 
get  fond  of  me.  Sacha,  too,  will  love  you." 

"  No,  I  love  you  ;  I  don't  love  the  dog." 

"  But  I  love  you  and  the  dog,  too.  See  how  handsome 
he  is !  What  a  broad  chest  he  has,  and  what  powerful 
paws,  and  such  beautiful  eyes  !  What  a  grand  fellow  you 
are!  Let  me  look  at  your  paw.  Ah,  I  Ve  hurt  you,  but 
it 's  all  for  your  good,  as  you  will  see  by  and  by.  Sacha, 
give  me  your  handkerchief." 

"  No." 

"  Selfish  thing,"  I  said  coldly,  pushing  away  the  hand 
she  tried  to  slip  into  mine;  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  had 
improvised  a  splint  out  of  some  moss,  two  pieces  of 

S 


66  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

board,  and  a  bandage,  made  by  tearing  up  one  of  my  shirt 
sleeves. 

The  poor  animal  did  not  move ;  but  when  I  had  finished, 
he  began  to  lick  my  hands,  and  the  expression  of  his  eyes 
was  almost  human. 

"  We  must  carry  him  home,  now.  Will  you  help  me, 
Sacha?" 

But  as  she  pouted  and  still  refused  to  answer,  I  lifted 
the  dog  and  carried  him  to  our  little  stable  without  any 
assistance  from  her.  Sacha  followed  me  in  silence,  with 
compressed  lips  and  knitted  brows.  She  was  evidently 
jealous  of  the  dog. 

I  laid  the  animal  on  a  pile  of  straw,  and  noticing  that 
his  nose  was  hot  and  dry,  a  sure  sign  of  fever,  I  placed 
before  him  a  big  earthen  pan  of  water,  which  he  emptied 
almost  at  a  single  draught.  As  soon  as  my  father  re- 
turned, I  showed  him  my  patient.  He  complimented  me 
on  the  skilful  manner  in  which  I  had  dressed  the  injured 
leg,  and  said  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  administer 
some  cooling  medicine  to  the  poor  beast. 

I  held  his  mouth  open  while  my  father  poured  down 
the  mixture ;  and  in  his  frantic  efforts  to  escape,  poor  Snap 
splashed  nearly  half  of  the  medicine  on  my  nose  and  lips. 
Ugh,  how  bitter  it  was !  But  this  ordeal  over,  the  dog 
stretched  himself  out  on  the  straw  with  a  long  sigh  of  relief, 
laid  his  nose  between  his  paws,  and  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

"  He  '11  get  over  it,"  remarked  my  father,  rising  from 
his  knees ;  "  and  you  '11  have  a  nice  playfellow,  Mitia." 

"  Yes ;  but  Sacha  does  n't  like  him." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  all  right  by  and  by.  You  have  n't  had 
any  difficulty  with  her  about  the  dog,  I  hope,"  continued 
my  father.  "  Sacha  is  n't  a  big  strong  boy  like  you.  A 


"  I    PLACED    BEFORE    HIM    A    BIG   EARTHEN    PAN    OF    WATER." 


SACHA.  69 

person  might  tease  you  and  hustle  you  about,  as  much  as 
he  pleased,  and  you  would  be  all  the  better  for  it.  You 
must  spare  the  weak,  Mitia;  never  forget  that." 

I  hung  my  head,  and  started  off  in  search  of  Sacha.  I 
found  her  sitting  in  the  corner  by  the  stove,  gloomy  and 
silent. 

"  Why  are  you  angry  with  me?  "  I  asked. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  You  certainly  would  not  have  had  me  leave  that  poor 
dog  to  die,"  I  continued  impatiently. 

"  You  care  more  for  him  than  you  do  for  me." 

"Oh!" 

"  Go  back  to  your  dog,  go !  "  she  cried  passionately. 
"  Why  did  you  bring  me  here  if  you  must  go  and  take  in 
the  first  dog  you  find  on  the  roadside  in  the  same  way. 
Go  away,  go  away,  I  tell  you  !  You  're  not  my  brother 
any  longer." 

"Why,  Sacha!" 

She  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  sobbing.  I  tried  to  con- 
sole her,  and  to  make  her  understand  that  I  could  love  her 
and  love  the  dog,  too ;  but  in  vain. 

All  this  grieved  me  the  more  because  I  had  already 
taken  a  great  liking  to  poor  Snap ;  and  feeling  myself  re- 
sponsible for  his  recovery,  I  devoted  most  of  my  time  to 
him.  If  Sacha  had  not  taken  such  a  dislike  to  him,  we 
might  have  teased  and  spoiled  him  together,  and  as  he  was 
as  affectionate  as  he  was  handsome,  we  should  have  been  a 
jolly  trio  of  friends ;  but  she  pretended  to  consider  him 
a  very  dangerous  animal,  and  to  be  very  much  afraid  that 
he  would  bite  her.  I  say  pretended,  for  it  seemed  to  me 
impossible  that  she  should  really  be  afraid  of  such  a  gentle 
and  affectionate  dog. 


7O  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

He  was  soon  completely  cured,  and  able  to  gambol 
about  as  before,  for  he  was  a  young  dog.  I  was  very 
proud  of  his  beauty  and  courage,  and  we  became  more 
and  more  fond  of  each  other  every  day. 

Sacha  and  I  were  on  much  less  friendly  terms,  however. 
We  quarrelled  about  the  most  trivial  matters ;  and  I  was 
becoming  more  and  more  inclined  to  tease,  and  she  was 
becoming  more  and  more  sensitive,  when  I  played  a  joke 
on  her  which  came  so  near  being  fatal  in  its  consequences 
that  it  proved  a  bitter  lesson  to  me,  and  so  effectually 
cured  me  of  this  foolish  and  disagreeable  habit  that  my 
dear  little  sister  never  had  any  further  cause  to  complain 
of  her  adopted  brother. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH   A  WOLF. 

ONE  day  my  father  brought  Sacha  a  package,  which  he 
advised  her  to  open  very  carefully.  He  had  just 

returned  from  the  town  of  V ,  about  sixty  miles  away, 

whither  he  had  been  summoned  for  consultation. 

Greatly  excited,  my  little  sister  opened  the  box  and 
took  from  it  a  doll,  the  like  of  which  she  had  never  seen 
before.  It  must  have  come  from  Paris,  judging  from  its 
costume ;  a  gown  of  blue  velvet,  en  traine,  a  plumed  hat, 
a  dainty  fan  suspended  from  the  waist,  and  a  profusion  of 
golden  hair  dressed  in  the  most  elaborate  manner. 

Sacha  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment  in  silent  ecstasy ;  then  she 
uttered  a  cry  of  delight,  and  began  to  lavish  kisses  and  all 
sorts  of  endearing  names  upon  her  treasure.  Next  came 
my  father's  turn  and  mine ;  but  Snap  having  put  out  his 
nose  to  smell  the  new  comer,  Sacha  pressed  her  child  to 
her  heart  with  an  essentially  maternal  gesture.  I  had 
never  seen  her  so  delighted ;  she  talked  and  talked,  her 
eyes  sparkled  ;  she  was  really  beside  herself  with  joy. 

How  enraptured  she  was  when  she  found  that  the  doll's 
garments  could  be  taken  off  and  put  on  again,  —  a  great 
advantage,  it  seems,  and  one  that  is  quite  rare  with  these 
young  ladies.  I  speak  only  with  reference  to  the  dolls  we 
had  seen  in  Sitovka,  and  those  sold  at  our  annual  fair,  — 


72  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

unwieldy  creatures  whose  gaudy  clothing  was  either  nailed 
or  glued  upon  their  bodies ;  while  this  elegant  damsel  wore 
not  only  a  dress  and  a  dainty  white  skirt  and  fine  under- 
clothing, but  silk  stockings,  and  lovely  little  shoes  that 
filled  Sacha's  heart  with  rapturous  delight.  The  doll  was 
dressed  and  undressed  twenty  times  that  evening ;  Sacha 
had  her  sit  beside  her  at  table,  and  she  went  to  bed  that 
night  with  her  treasure  pressed  to  her  heart. 

From  that  day,  Mademoiselle,  as  we  called  her,  was 
seldom  out  of  her  mother's  arms.  She  even  shared  the 
lessons  which  my  father  gave  Sacha,  and  by  which  she  ap- 
peared to  profit  in  a  truly  marvellous  manner,  —  at  least  so  it 
seemed  to  me.  That  she  studied  cheerfully  herself  seemed 
strange  enough ;  but  when  I  saw  her  making  tiny  blank- 
books  for  her  doll,  in  which  she  recopied  all  her  exercises 
in  the  finest  possible  hand,  I  never  ceased  to  marvel.  To 
make  all  this  seem  more  real,  Sacha  always  wrote  her 
exercises  and  those  of  Mademoiselle  a  little  differently; 
and  my  father,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  little  comedy, 
examined  both  with  equal  care,  and  it  was  sometimes 
Sacha  and  sometimes  Mademoiselle  who  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  class. 

In  spite  of  my  twelve  years  and  my  pretensions  to  being 
a  big  boy,  I  seldom  disdained  to  join  in  the  play  of  Sacha 
and  Mademoiselle,  though  the  elaborate  costume  of  the 
latter  furnished  me  with  food  for  continual  ridicule  and 
more  or  less  ill-tempered  jibes ;  but  when  they  gave  a  ball, 
I  never  failed  to  appear  at  the  appointed  hour  to  take  part 
in  the  festivities.  True,  I  confined  myself  principally  to 
devouring  the  refreshments,  but  Sacha  and  Mademoiselle 
were  generally  too  much  engrossed  in  dancing  to  pay  any 
attention  to  that.  After  the  stock  of  eatables  was  ex- 


A   THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH  A   WOLF.  73 

hausted,  I  would  take  Snap  by  his  forelegs  and  compel 
him  to  dance  with  me ;  and  when  we  became  weary  of  that 
sport,  I  would  take  down  my  balalaika?  and  we  would  sing 
our  sweet  but  melancholy  Russian  folk-songs.  Sacha's 
voice  was  as  clear  as  that  of  a  skylark,  and  my  father 
seemed  to  listen  with  pleasure,  and  never  complained  of  the 
noise  we  made  on  these  festive  occasions.  Snap,  lying  at 
his  feet,  and  still  panting  from  his  enforced  exercise,  sur- 
veyed us  all  with  a  kindly  smile,  —  for  no  Christian  ever 
had  a  more  frank  and  benignant  smile;  and  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  most  magnificent  ball  in  St.  Petersburg 
ever  afforded  its  guests  as  much  pleasure  as  ours. 

How  the  diabolical  idea  of  marring  this  happiness 
originated,  I  know  not ;  but  it  had  lasted  several  months, 
and  was  doubtless  beginning  to  pall  upon  me. 

At  all  events,  the  following  is  a  truthful  account  of  the 
affair. 

Tatiana  Ipronovna  came  for  Sacha  in  hot  haste  one  day. 
She  was  to  be  married  soon,  and  as  Sacha  was  to  serve  as 
her  attendant,  it  was  necessary  that  some  dress  or  piece  of 
finery  should  be  tried  on ;  and  Sacha  departed  so  hurriedly 
that  she  forgot  Mademoiselle,  and  left  her  on  the  table, 
where  she  was  presumably  engaged  in  doing  her  exercises. 

My  father  was  away,  and  I  was  consequently  left  alone 
with  the  doll. 

I  solemnly  declare  that  at  first  I  merely  intended  to 
look  at  her.  I  picked  her  up,  made  a  few  faces  at  her, 
then  turned  her  round  and  round  in  my  hands,  vaguely 
wondering  how  Sacha  could  take  such  intense  delight  in 
fondling  this  bit  of  kid  and  china.  Suddenly  an  idea,  in- 
spired, I  am  sure,  by  the  Evil  One  himself,  flitted  through 

1  A  musical  instrument  resembling  a  guitar,  but  with  only  three  strings. 


74  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

my  brain.  What  would  Sacha  say  if,  on  her  return,  she 
saw  in  place  of  her  gorgeously  arrayed  Mademoiselle  a 
youroudivyi 1  as  fantastically  dressed  and  hideous  in  ap- 
pearance as  one  we  had  seen  pass  through  our  village  a 
short  time  before? 

It  would  certainly  seem  very  funny  to  her.  Animated 
by  this  brilliant  idea,  and  without  giving  a  thought  to  the 
bitter  grief  I  was  about  to  inflict  upon  my  poor  little 
sister,  I  began  my  work  of  destruction. 

I  took  the  scissors :  Snip  !  snap  !  and  the  doll  was  shorn 
of  her  golden  tresses.  This  done,  I  dexterously  divested 
her  of  her  fine  apparel,  and  soon  had  poor  Mademoiselle 
attired  in  a  ragged  smock  made  from  the  torn  sleeve  of  an 
old  overcoat.  Out  of  her  beautiful  velvet  gown  I  made  a 
wallet,  or  bag,  which  I  took  the  trouble  to  improve  by 
rubbing  on  the  stove,  and  which  I  afterwards  suspended 
from  the  doll's  shoulder  by  a  string.  I  even  slipped  in  a 
piece  of  rye  bread  to  make  the  resemblance  complete. 
Then,  seizing  the  gluepot,  and  taking  a  handful  of  the 
shorn  tresses  which  were  lying  on  the  table,  I  glued  them 
on  the  doll's  rosy  cheeks  for  a  beard,  after  which  I  in- 
geniously cut  the  tips  of  the  pretty  shoes  so  the  toes  would 
protrude ;  and  then  placing  my  chef  d'ceuvre  in  a  conspi- 
cuous position,  I  awaited  the  result  of  my  labors. 

If  I  live  a  hundred  years,  I  shall  never  forget  Sacha's 
look  when  she  re-entered  the  room,  and  dancing  up  to  the 
table,  beheld  her  doll.  She  turned  pale,  her  lips  quivered, 
her  eyes  seemed  to  start  from  their  sockets ;  she  recoiled  in 
horror,  and  in  that  instant,  as  if  a  veil  had  been  suddenly 
torn  from  my  eyes,  I  realized  the  atrociousness  of  my 
crime !  I  saw  how  cruel  I  had  been,  and  how  deeply  I 

1  A  mountebank,  or  peddler 


A   THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  WOLF.  75 

had  injured  the  child  whom  I  nevertheless  sincerely  loved ! 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  felt  the  sting  of  remorse, 
and  though  the  cause  was  comparatively  frivolous,  my 
compunctions  of  conscience  were  none  the  less  bitter. 
My  poor  little  Sacha !  What  would  I  not  have  given  if 
that  fatal  idea  had  never  occurred  to  me! 

Neither  of  us  uttered  a  word.  I  stood  breathlessly 
watching  the  child,  who  had  taken  the  victim  in  her  two 
hands,  and  was  gazing  at  it  with  a  bewildered  air.  I  would 
greatly  have  preferred  that  she  had  flown  at  me  like  a 
young  tigress.  At  last  I  could  endure  the  silence  no 
longer. 

"  Sacha,"  I  faltered  in  a  smothered  voice,  "  I  did  n't 
mean  to  grieve  you.  See,  it  is  a  youroudivyi" 

On  hearing  my  voice,  she  started  violently,  and  turning, 
gave  me  a  look  that  cut  me  to  the  heart.  I  took  a  step 
toward  her ;  but  she  repelled  me  with  a  passionate  gesture, 
and  in  a  trembling  voice  that  I  scarcely  recognized, 
exclaimed,  — 

"  So  it  was  you  !  you  !  Oh,  Mitia,  how  could  you  do  it? 
Never  speak  to  me  again,  —  never !  Oh,  it  was  vile, 
cowardly !  " 

She  paused,  overcome  with  emotion.  As  for  me,  there 
was  such  a  big  lump  in  my  throat  that  I  could  not  utter  a 
word.  I  would  gladly  have  given  everything  I  possessed 
in  the  world  if  I  had  not  done  the  deed.  In  a  moment  she 
dropped  the  mutilated  body  of  her  doll  on  the  floor,  and 
turned  toward  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  I  cried  in  anguish.  "It 
is  terribly  cold,  and  the  ground  is  covered  with  snow." 

"  Let  me  alone,"  she  retorted  savagely.  "  I  forbid  you 
to  follow  me." 


76  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

And  she  rushed  out,  leaving  me  rooted  to  the  spot.  I 
heard  the  sound  of  her  rapid  footsteps  die  away  in  the 
distance.  Where  was  she  going?  I  dared  not  follow  her. 
The  sound  of  her  departing  footsteps  upon  the  frozen 
ground,  the  disfigured  doll  lying  on  the  floor,  the  terrible 
grief  I  had  seen  depicted  on  Sacha's  poor  little  face,  —  all 
combined  to  overpower  me,  and  sinking  into  a  chair,  I  put 
my  head  on  the  table  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Fool,  coward,  wretch  that  I  am !  "  I  groaned,  beating 
my  head  with  my  clenched  fists.  "Can  it  be  I  have  done 
such  a  thing !  I,  and  to  that  poor  child  !  Oh,  Sacha, 
Sacha,  if  I  could  only  give  you  back  your  doll !  " 

I  do  not  know  how  long  I  sat  there ;  but  the  opening  of 
the  door  at  last  aroused  me  from  my  sorrowful  revery.  I 
looked  up  quickly,  hoping  to  see  Sacha  enter,  but  it  was 
Porphyre. 

He  seated  himself  by  the  stove,  and  I  sullenly  buried 
my  face  in  my  arm  again  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  him. 
After  a  moment,  I  heard  a  sort  of  guffaw.  He  had  just 
perceived  the  youroudivyi,  and  he  was  laughing  at  it. 

His  mirth  exasperated  me.  It  made  me  realize  even 
more  thoroughly  the  enormity  of  my  act ;  and  adding  in- 
justice to  my  other  crimes,  I  turned,  and  without  a  word  of 
warning,  gave  him  a  violent  box  on  the  ear. 

"  That  will  teach  you  to  laugh,  you  idiot !  "  I  roared 
wrathfully.  "Well,  aren't  you  going  to  hit  me  back? 
What  are  your  fists  for?" 

"  But  I  'm  not  mad,"  he  replied,  staring  at  me  in  such 
artless  surprise  that  I  could  not  help  laughing  in  spite  of 
my  grief. 

"  You  are  the  biggest  simpleton  I  ever  saw !  "  I  ex- 
claimed, giving  him  another  blow,  —  a  friendly  one  this 


A   THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH  A   WOLF.  77 

time  on  the  shoulder.  "What  did  you  come  for? "  I 
added,  without  even  caring  to  hear  his  response,  however. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  that  the  wolf  has  been  seen  again," 
Porphyre  answered  stolidly,  evidently  not  making  the 
slightest  effort  to  fathom  the  cause  of  my  agitation. 

"  The  wolf?  "  I  repeated  absently. 

"  Yes ;  you  know.  His  tracks  were  seen  near  the  vil- 
lage awhile  ago,  you  remember.  Well,  the  cold  has  driven 
him  out  of  the  woods,  and  he  was  seen  again  this  morning. 
They  say  he  's  enormous." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet.  The  wolf  was  prowling  around 
the  village,  and  Sacha  —  where  was  she?  What  if  the  poor 
child  had  fled  to  the  woods  to  conceal  her  grief,  as  she 
had  done  more  than  once  when  I  was  tormenting  her. 
My  head  swam,  and  a  thousand  horrible  visions  flitted 
before  my  eyes. 

I  seized  the  astonished  Porphyre  by  the  throat,  and  wild 
with  terror  and  anxiety,  I  shook  him  violently. 

"  Where  is  she?"  I  cried.     "Where  is  she,  I  say?" 

"  Eh !  what?     You  're  strangling  me,  Dmitri." 

"  Sacha,  Sacha  !  "  I  cried,  relaxing  my  hold  so  suddenly 
that  Porphyre  fell  to  the  floor,  overturning  bench  and  table 
in  his  fall.  "Where  is  she?  Where  shall  I  look  for  her? 
Here,  Snap,  here !  "  I  shouted,  throwing  him  a  little  hand- 
kerchief Sacha  was  in  the  habit  of  wearing  around  her 
neck.  "  Find  her,  find  her,  my  good  dog !  Find  Sacha." 

I  opened  the  door ;  he  sprang  out,  and  in  another  second 
I  heard  the  peculiar  bark  that  a  hunting  dog  gives  When 
he  finds  the  scent,  and  saw  him  dart  off  like  a  streak  of 
lightning  toward  the  forest.  My  blood  curdled  in  my 
veins.  The  wolf  was  there  unquestionably.  Could  we  get 
there  in  time  ? 


78  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  caught  up  a  heavy  stick  and  rushed  after  the  dog,  who 
uttered  a  shrill  bark  now  and  then  as  he  flew  swiftly  on, 
without  turning  either  to  the  right  or  left. 

Night  was  coming  on ;  the  snow-covered  fields  stretched 
before  us,  silent  and  deserted.  No  human  being  was  visi- 
ble. All  the  houses  were  closed ;  but  as  I  ran  by,  I  pounded 
on  several  windows  with  my  stick  and  shouted,  "  Help, 
help,  the  wolf!  "  then  hastened  on  without  pausing  to  see 
if  I  had  been  heard. 

The  dog  ran  swiftly  on  and  on.  Good  heavens !  how 
far  it  was !  Yes,  I  knew  now.  When  anything  troubled 
her,  she  was  wont  to  flee  to  the  heart  of  the  forest,  like  a 
wounded  doe;  but  never  in  winter  until  now.  The  cold 
alone  was  enough  to  kill  her,  she  was  so  frail  and 
delicate. 

Frantic  with  terror,  I  rushed  on.  Big  tears,  that  the 
cutting  wind  froze  on  my  cheeks,  streamed  from  my 
eyes. 

Suddenly  Snap  seemed  to  redouble  his  speed.  As  he 
did  so,  he  uttered  a  still  more  piercing  bark ;  and  above  it 
I  heard  a  despairing  cry  of  "  Help,  Mitia,  help !  " 

Oh,  what  a  cry  of  anguish  I  uttered  in  reply !  "  Here 
I  am,  Sacha,  here  I  am!  Where  are  you?"  I  shouted 
wildly,  despairingly. 

There  was  a  sharp  turn  in  the  road  just  before  me. 
When  I  reached  it,  a  terrible  sight  met  my  gaze.  Sacha 
was  lying  on  the  snow  at  the  edge  of  the  forest.  Over 
her,  with  one  paw  already  on  her  breast,  but  with  his 
foaming  mouth  and  bristling  mane  turned  toward  me, 
stood  an  enormous  wolf,  his  red  eyes  shining  like  rubies 
in  the  dim  light. 

Oh,  how  far  off  it  seemed  !     Should  I  get  there  in  time 


DMITRI    RESCUING   SACHA    FROM    THE    WOLF. 


A    THRILLING  AD  VENTURE   WITH  A   WOLF.  8 1 

to  save  her?  How  could  I  hope  to  succeed  with  no 
weapon  but  my  stick !  Just  at  that  instant  my  foot 
caught  in  the  root  of  a  tree,  and  I  fell  full  length  upon 
the  ground. 

Another  piercing  shriek  rent  the  air.  My  head  had 
struck  the  tree  with  such  violence,  that  I  should  have 
been  stunned  had  not  my  little  sister's  cry  aroused  me 
from  my  torpor.  I  sprang  up,  but  my  brave  dog  was 
ahead  of  me.  With  a  savage  growl,  he  had  sprung  upon 
his  formidable  adversary,  and  planted  his  sharp  teeth 
firmly  in  his  throat ;  and  the  two  animals  were  now  rolling 
over  and  over  each  other  on  the  ground  in  deadly  combat. 

Quick  as  thought  I  ran  to  Sacha  and  set  her  on  her  feet. 
She  was  half  dead  with  fright,  but  otherwise  unhurt.  A 
single  glance  convinced  me  of  that,  though  her  clothing  was 
badly  torn.  A  second  more  and  all  would  have  been  over. 

I  pressed  her  passionately  to  my  heart.  Oh,  the  joy 
of  that  moment !  But  we  were  not  out  of  danger  yet.  If 
my  brave  Snap  was  worsted  in  the  struggle,  what  would 
become  of  us?  I  placed  myself  in  front  of  Sacha  to  protect 
her  if  worst  came  to  worst,  and  turned  my  attention  to 
the  combatants. 

The  snow  around  them  was  stained  with  blood,  but  the 
conflict  was  raging  with  undiminished  fury.  The  wolf 
seemed  likely  to  come  off  victorious  however ;  so  I  rushed 
forward  and  dealt  him  a  violent  blow  on  the  head  with  my 
stick.  This  partially  stunned  him  at  the  very  instant  that 
the  dog  with  one  final  effort  tore  the  beast's  throat  from 
ear  to  ear.  A  torrent  of  blood  spurted  in  my  very  face ; 
the  wolf  uttered  a  lugubrious  howl,  and  turning  a  somer- 
sault in  the  air,  fell  dead  upon  the  snow. 

Just  then  Porphyre,  pale  with  terror,  came  running  up, 

6 


82  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

followed  by  several  peasants  armed  with  clubs  and  pitch- 
forks. They  assisted  me  in  moving  the  body  of  the  wolf, 
which  had  fallen  upon  Snap.  The  poor  dog  was,  to  all 
appearance,  lifeless;  his  snowy  coat  was  stained  with 
blood  in  twenty  places ;  his  eyes  were  closed,  and  he  had 
ceased  to  breathe. 

"  Snap,"  I  cried  despairingly,  "  you  're  not  dead !  you 
can't  be  dead !  Wake  up !  It  is  I,  your  master." 

But  he  remained  motionless ;  and  falling  on  my  knees 
beside  him,  I  wept  as  if  my  heart  would  break.  I  could 
not  believe  that  he  was  dead. 

"  Come,"  said  Porphyre,  "  come,  brother.  We  must  go 
home.  It  is  getting  late." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  leave  him  here  for  the 
wolves  to  eat?  " 

"  We  will  take  him  with  us." 

"  But  we  shall  have  to  carry  Sacha." 

"  No,  no,  I  will  walk,"  sobbed  Sacha.  "  Yes,  let  us 
take  him  home  with  us,  Mitia.  Poor  dog,  he  was  a  thou- 
sand times  better  than  I !  To  think  that  he  should  give  his 
life  for  me  when  I  have  always  treated  him  so  unkindly,  and 
given  him  nothing  but  harsh  words.  You  did  right  to  love 
him,  Dmitri.  How  can  you  ever  forgive  me  for  being  the 
cause  of  his  death  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Sacha,  how  can  you  ever  forgive  me  for  what  I 
did  to-day?  It  is  all  my  fault!  But  for  me,  you  would 
not  have  run  away,  and  poor  Snap  would  still  be  alive.  I 
did  not  intend  to  grieve  you,  I  assure  you.  I  only  did  it 
for  fun." 

Sacha  bowed  her  head  to  conceal  her  tears. 

"  Come,  Mitia,  let  us  pick  him  up,"  interposed  Porphyre, 
suddenly.  "  I  will  help  you  carry  him." 


A  THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  WOLF.  83 

But  as  we  lifted  the  brave  dog,  he  gave  a  faint  moan. 
In  his  astonishment,  Porphyre  let  the  poor  beast  fall  to 
the  ground  with  such  violence  that  Snap  opened  his  lan- 
guid eyes  and  tried  to  show  his  teeth.  In  our  excessive 
joy,  we  committed  all  sorts  of  absurdities.  I  began  to 
dance  and  sing,  throwing  my  cap  into  the  air  and  embrac- 
ing Sacha,  Porphyre,  and  the  dog  indiscriminately. 

While  the  peasants  were  engaged  in  measuring  the  wolf, 
which  was  unusually  large,  —  fully  six  feet  in  length,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  —  I  heard  the  sound  of  approaching  car- 
riage-wheels. It  proved  to  be  my  father  returning  home 
as  fast  as  Vodka  could  bring  him.  I  explained  the  situa- 
tion of  affairs  to  him.  Sacha  and  Snap  were  placed  in  the 
vehicle,  and  my  father  drove  swiftly  off,  leaving  all  the  rest 
of  us  to  follow. 

The  peasants  carried  the  body  of  the  wolf  to  the  village, 
and  the  skin  was  tanned  and  subsequently  used  as  a  rug 
by  my  father.  It  must  still  be  in  our  house  in  Sitovka. 
My  dear  old  home,  shall  I  ever  see  it  again? 

Sacha  soon  recovered  from  her  fright.  As  for  poor 
Snap,  it  took  skilful  doctoring  and  careful  nursing  to  save 
him,  for  his  wounds  were  numerous  and  severe ;  but  my 
father  devoted  himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  work,  and 
Sacha  would  have  died  rather  than  abandon  her  post  by 
the  invalid.  It  was  really  to  her  that  he  owed  his  re- 
covery, and  he  repaid  her  devotion  with  the  true  affection 
of  an  honest  nature. 

My  father  did  not  scold  me  when  I  confessed  my  fault, 
but  contented  himself  with  saying,  in  an  earnest  tone  that 
went  straight  to  my  heart,  — 

"  I  shall  not  reproach  you,  my  boy,  for  you  have  seen 
the  almost  fatal  consequences  of  your  joke.  I  am  sure 


84  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

you  understand  that  the  perpetration  of  such  tricks  are  no 
sign  of  courage  or  wit,  especially  when  the  victim  is  a 
weaker  person  than  yourself." 

"  Yes,  Father,  yes,  I  will  never  be  guilty  of  such  a  thing 
again.  Sacha  has  forgiven  me.  It  is  the  last  time  I  will 
ever  tease  her,  I  swear  it !  " 

And  it  was  the  last.  The  lesson  had  been  a  terrible  one, 
but  I  profited  by  it. 

One  day,  after  Snap  had  entirely  recovered  from  his 
wounds,  I  brought  Sacha  a  little  coffin,  which  I  had  con- 
structed with  all  the  care  and  skill  of  which  I  was  cap- 
able. In  it  we  placed  the  remains  of  poor  Mademoiselle, 
wrapped  in  a  handkerchief,  and  covered  with  flowers. 
Sacha  shed  a  few  tears,  but  bravely  concealed  her  grief 
so  as  not  to  pain  me.  I  officiated  as  pope  at  the  funeral 
services,  and  Snap  followed  the  coffin  with  a  long  black  rib- 
bon tied  to  his  tail.  We  buried  her  at  the  foot  of  the 
garden.  Peace  to  her  ashes ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  SITOVKA  FAIR. 

THE  great  event  of  the  year  to  us  was  the  Sitovka 
Fair.  I  still  remember  our  feverish  waiting  just 
before  the  great  festival,  when  the  gypsies  began  to  en- 
camp on  the  steppe,  and  the  various  side-shows  established 
themselves  in  the  public  square.  This  fair  attracted  a 
great  many  people  to  our  village.  Our  towns  are  so  far 
apart  that  a  journey  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  versts  1  is  con- 
sidered a  mere  trifle  when  one's  pleasure  or  profit  is  in- 
volved ;  besides,  coming  as  this  fair  did,  in  the  spring  of 
the  year,  the  weather  was  no  drawback.  The  long  winter 
was  over,  and  I  do  not  remember  a  single  fair  when  the 
weather  was  not  superb. 

In  foreign  books  I  have  always  seen  Russia  depicted  as 
a  gloomy  country,  shrouded  in  eternal  snow ;  but  this  is 
a  great  mistake.  Our  springs  are  usually  delightful,  and 
that  which  immediately  followed  my  thirteenth  birthday 
was  unusually  fine. 

I  rose  before  the  sun  on  the  opening  day  of  the  fair, 
and  took  a  run  through  the  fields  in  order  to  make  the 
most  of  the  beautiful  morning,  and  enjoy,  in  anticipation, 
the  pleasures  in  store  for  me. 

The  larks  were  singing  their  sweetest  songs ;  the  crows 
were  chattering  gayly  in  the  tree-tops,  and  the  azure  sky 

1  A  verst  is  3,501  feet. 


86  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

was  flecked  by  only  a  few  light,  fleecy  clouds.  It  was 
happiness  enough  to  be  living  on  such  a  morning  as  this. 
It  was  vacation,  so  I  could  be  as  idle  as  I  chose.  There 
was  no  recollection  of  lessons  unlearned  to  mar  my  enjoy- 
ment, as  was  too  often  the  case,  even  on  the  days  when  I 
did  not  honor  the  schoolhouse  with  my  presence. 

I  was  becoming  a  little  more  studious  as  I  grew  older 
however,  and  Master  Lebewohl  began  to  cherish  some 
hope  of  seeing  me  become  less  of  a  dunce;  it  was  thus 
that  he  encouraged  me  to  climb  the  rugged  hill  of 
learning. 

When  I  returned  from  my  walk,  vehicles  of  every  descrip- 
tion were  pouring  into  the  village,  —  droschkts,  tttegues, 
covered  wagons,  and  chaises,  —  some  dilapidated  affairs, 
others  well  kept  and  shining,  but  all  crowded  with  people 
from  the  surrounding  country,  some  clad  in  fine  apparel, 
others  in  sheepskin. 

I  found  Sacha  waiting  for  me  on  our  doorstep ;  and  seat- 
ing myself  beside  her,  I  began  to  talk  over  our  plans  for 
the  day.  Porphyre  was  sure  to  join  us  shortly. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  all  three  of  us  were  enthusias- 
tic admirers  of  all  the  side-shows.  Fat  women,  educated 
monkeys,  menageries,  panoramas,  and  wax  figures  all  pos- 
sessed a  wonderful  charm  for  us ;  but  what  we  loved  best 
of  all  was  the  circus.  We  equalled  the  ancient  Romans 
in  our  profound  appreciation  of  this  species  of  diversion. 
If  a  circus  came  to  Sitovka  we  soon  knew  each  rider  by 
name,  and  his  every  word  and  gesture  had  a  wonderful 
charm  for  us.  What  would  we  not  have  given  to  attend 
every  performance !  —  an  impossibility  of  course,  on  ac- 
count of  the  very  limited  state  of  our  finances;  but  my 
father  managed  to  send  us  occasionally,  and  our  recollec- 


THE  S1TOVKA  FAIR.  87 

tions  of  it  served  to  enliven  our  sports  all  the  rest  of  the 
year. 

We  imitated  the  bareback  riders,  Sacha  representing 
the  leading  lady  being  escorted  to  her  fiery  steed  —  the 
trunk  of  an  old  tree  in  the  garden — by  Porphyre,  who 
also  filled  the  important  r61e  of  clown  of  the  troupe.  I 
assumed  the  duties  of  director,  and  had  even  made  several 
attempts  to  stand  erect  upon  Vodka's  back ;  but  this  pro- 
ceeding proved  so  distasteful  to  him  that  he  deposited  me 
on  the  ground  without  the  slightest  ceremony.  As  for 
Snap,  all  my  attempts  to  make  him  walk  on  a  cask  proved 
utterly  futile,  and  I  was  obliged  to  content  myself  with 
making  him  leap  high  in  the  air  on  hearing  the  name  of 
the  czar,  and  show  his  teeth  ominously  at  the  mention  of 
the  odious  Turk.  If  I  had  been  given  my  choice  of  a 
profession  at  that  time,  I  should  certainly  have  decided 
upon  that  of  a  circus  rider,  and  Porphyre  and  Sacha 
would  have  followed  my  example. 

"  Tiihr's  circus  has  come !  "  shouted  Porphyre,  as  far  off 
as  he  could  see  us.  "  He  has  two  elephants  and  a  trained 
horse  that  beats  the  very  deuce.  I  have  a  rouble- to  spend. 
My  godfather  gave  it  to  me,"  —  his  godfather  was  a  rich 
farmer  in  the  neighborhood,  —  "  and  do  you  know,  Dmitri, 
that  they  say  Tiihr  is  going  to  hire  out  some  of  his  saddle 
horses?  They  're  very  different  from  your  poor  Vodka,  - 
real  trained  saddle  horses,  you  know,  that  will  obey  the 
slightest  pull  of  the  rein.  Upon  my  word !  I've  a  great 
mind  to  take  a  ride.  It  will  cost  a  good  deal,  to  be  sure, 
but  it  will  be  great  fun.  You  'd  like  to  have  one,  too, 
wouldn't  you,  Sacha?  Oh,  well,  you'll  have  a  chance 
some  day  or  other,  perhaps." 

Seeing    Porphyre's    air    of    importance,    a    feeling    of 


88  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

envy  at  his  good  fortune  took  possession  of  our 
souls. 

"  I  've  only  a  few  kopecks"  said  Sacha,  jingling  them  in 
her  apron  pocket,  with  a  little  sigh. 

"  I  have  two  griveniks  and  three  kopecks,"  I  added, 
"  but  I  want  them  for  something  else." 

I  intended  to  purchase  a  doll  for  Sacha  to  take  Made- 
moiselle's place. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  two  can  have  a  ride  some  other  time," 
said  Porphyre,  condescendingly;  and  he  left  us,  after 
promising  to  meet  us  a  little  later  in  the  square,  for 
Father  needed  us  at  home  that  morning. 

Our  usually  quiet  cottage  was  the  scene  of  unwonted 
commotion  on  Fair  days.  Ever  since  daybreak,  people 
from  the  surrounding  country  had  been  coming  in  to  con- 
sult my  father,  whose  medical  skill  was  held  in  high  esteem 
throughout  the  district.  It  was  rumored  that  a  wealthy 
resident  of  St.  Petersburg  who  had  an  estate  in  the  neigh- 
borhood had  publicly  declared  that  one  would  have  to  go 
to  the  capital  in  order  to  find  a  physician  equal  to  F6dor 
Illitch  Terentieff,  and  I  was  very  proud  of  the  report. 

Sacha  and  I  were  charged  with  the  duty  of  ushering  the 
peasants  and  farmers'  wives,  one  by  one,  into  the  front 
room,  and  subsequently  into  the  presence  of  my  father,  who 
sat  in  his  big  armchair,  awaiting  them. 

Those  who  did  not  pay  in  money  —  and  by  far  the  greater 
number  did  not  —  paid  us  in  provisions,  which  were  a  very 
welcome  addition  to  the  contents  of  our  larder.  They 
brought  salt  meat,  honey,  butter,  cheese,  home-made  wines, 
and  dried  mushrooms,  —  which  would  have  gladdened  the 
heart  of  our  thrifty  little  housekeeper,  if  she  had  not 
known  that  they  would  disappear  almost  before  she  had 


THE  SITOVKA  FAIR.  89 

arranged  them  on  her  pantry  shelves ;  for  my  father  always 
had  some  patient  who  needed  this  or  that  delicacy,  and  he 
gave  it  without  the  slightest  hesitation.  The  farmers' 
wives  often  presented  themselves  with  a  pair  of  chickens 
tied  fast  together,  in  their  hands.  They  respectfully  de- 
posited their  offering  on  the  doorsill  before  entering  the 
house,  and  Sacha  and  I  were  instructed  to  set  the  fowls 
free.  As  soon  as  we  had  succeeded  in  untying  them,  — 
no  easy  task  by  reason  of  their  fluttering  and  pecking,  —  we 
carried  them  to  the  little  chicken-yard  back  of  the  house, 
where  they  were  fed  and  watered. 

But  at  last  the  moment  of  release  came  ;  and  with  faces 
shining  with  soap,  and  our  Sunday  clothes  on  our  backs,  we 
hastened  toward  the  Fair  grounds.  The  noise  and  uproar 
could  be  distinctly  heard  even  as  far  off  as  our  house.  It 
was  a  confused  medley  of  neighing,  bellowing,  and  snort- 
ing, dominated  by  the  shrill  cries  of  geese  and  the  barking 
of  angry  dogs,  with  a  constant  accompaniment  of  hand- 
organs,  clashing  cymbals,  powder  crackers,  and  firearms, 
all  making  a  hubbub  that  was  sweetest  music  to  our  ears. 

We  soon  reached  the  square  where  the  fair  was  held. 

The  enclosure  was  surrounded  by  several  rows  of  vehi- 
cles. It  was  here  that  the  horses  were  sold.  They  were 
of  every  sort  and  kind,  large  and  small;  big,  clumsy 
draught  horses,  handsome  carriage  horses,  long  legged 
trotters,  animals  whose  days  of  usefulness  were  long  since 
over,  and  young,  half  broken  steeds  from  the  Ukraine, 
horses  from  Viatka,  with  their  manes  and  tails  gayly 
adorned  with  red  ribbons,  and  harness  elaborately  deco- 
rated with  brass  mountings.  But  connoisseurs  did  not 
allow  themselves  to  be  influenced  by  this  display,  and  de- 
manded that  the  horse  should  be  divested  of  all  this 


9O  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS   IN  RUSSIA. 

toggery  before  they  decided  upon  its  merits.  It  was  as 
good  as  a  play  to  hear  the  owner  swear  by  all  the  gods 
that  the  animal  was  a  marvel  of  beauty,  a  jewel,  a  steed 
worthy  of  Jupiter,  and  see  the  would-be  purchaser  survey 
the  horse  with  a  contemptuous  air,  poking  out  his  under 
lip  and  expectorating  every  other  second. 

Congregated  around  the  horses  was  a  motley  throng  of 
buyers,  spectators,  jockeys,  and  mounted  Cossacks,  gypsies 
with  circles  of  bistre  around  their  eyes,  peasants  in  long 
sheepskin  overcoats,  and  Jews  with  greasy  corkscrew  ring- 
lets hanging  about  their  ears,  all  talking  and  shouting  and 
gesticulating  and  pushing  and  scolding  with  all  their  might. 
It  was  with  no  little  difficulty  that  we  succeeded  in  forcing 
our  way  through  this  crowd,  and  I  recollected  that  my 
father  had  bidden  me  take  great  care  of  Sacha. 

"  Above  all,  don't  let  her  get  too  near  the  horses,"  he 
had  said  to  me ;  "  one  of  them  might  kick  her."  So,  see- 
ing that  the  crowd  was  becoming  more  and  more  dense,  I 
elbowed  my  way  to  a  shed  at  the  end  of  the  square,  where 
the  dealers  in  fancy  articles  and  household  utensils  had 
established  themselves. 

Here  there  were  many  more  women  and  children  than 
men,  and  the  counters  were  covered  with  gay  ribbons  and 
gaudy  stuffs,  silk  handkerchiefs,  boots  and  shoes,  and  all 
sorts  of  feminine  adornments.  Many  of  the  women  wore 
the  national  head-dress,  the  kakochnik,  which  is  shaped 
like  a  big  inverted  horseshoe,  and  which  married  women 
alone  have  the  right  to  wear.  Some  rosy-cheeked  maidens 
wore  the  kika,  which  covers  the  hair  entirely,  or  the  tiara- 
like  paroinik  adorned  with  long,  floating  ribbons ;  others, 
who  were  inclined  to  abandon  ancient  customs  and  our 
graceful  and  becoming  national  costume,  contented  them- 


THE  S1TOVKA  FAIR.  91 

selves  with  a  silk  handkerchief,  knotted  under  the  chin. 
The  faces  were  almost  invariably  red  and  shining,  for  the 
heat  was  intense.  Suddenly  we  caught  sight  of  Porphyre, 
whose  face  was  as  luminous  as  the  sun.  In  obedience  to 
his  mother's  orders,  he  was  purchasing  a  hat  to  take  the 
place  of  the  cap  he  usually  wore,  and  he  seemed  utterly 
unable  to  decide  upon  the  relative  merits  of  the  different 
styles  a  garrulous  old  woman  was  displaying  for  his 
benefit.  She  had  just  placed  on  his  head  a  straight- 
brimmed  white  straw  hat,  with  a  plaid  ribbon  around  the 
crown.  The  hat  was  much  too  small  for  him,  but  the  poor 
boy  was  too  much  afraid  of  the  voluble  saleswoman  to  pro- 
test, though  his  face  was  as  red  as  a  strawberry,  and  he  cast 
despairing  glances  around  him ;  so  Sacha,  unwilling  to  add 
to  his  embarrassment,  dragged  me  away. 

But  I  must  say  that  when  Porphyre  passed  us  shortly 
afterwards  with  his  gray  caftan  —  it  was  made  out  of  one  of 
his  father's,  and  cut  large  enough  to  last  him  several  sea- 
sons —  fastened  around  his  waist  with  a  blue  sash,  and  his 
new  hat  perched  rakishly  on  one  side  of  his  head,  I  thought 
his  appearance  quite  imposing.  He  was  brandishing  a 
switch  that  he  had  cut  from  a  tree  near  by,  and  he  called 
out  to  us  in  a  shrill  falsetto  voice,  —  a  real  Russian  voice : 

"  It 's  all  right !  I  'm  going  to  take  my  horseback 
ride  now." 

"  Take  care  you  don't  lose  your  hat.  It  looks  to  me  as 
if  it  was  too  small,"  replied  Sacha,  rather  maliciously,  little 
thinking  how  soon  her  words  would  prove  true. 

A  few  minutes  afterward  Porphyre  rode  proudly  by  us, 
mounted  on  a  big  white  horse  with  a  Roman  nose. 

"  He  's  as  gentle  as  a  dove,"  he  cried,  as  he  trotted  past. 

He  was  proceeding  quietly  down  the  road  when  a  beg- 


92  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

gar,  seated  by  the  roadside,  suddenly  began  to  grind  out 
the  opening  measures  of  the  waltz  from  "  Faust "  on  his 
little  hand-organ. 

The  white  horse  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Quiet,  old  boy,"  faltered  Porphyre,  patting  the  neck  of 
his  steed ;  but  lo  and  behold !  the  animal  stretched  out  his 
right  leg  to  its  full  length  and  began  to  whirl  round  and 
round  like  a  top.  Porphyre  tugged  fiercely  at  the  reins, 
and  almost  pulled  his  horse  over  backward;  but  without 
avail.  It  was  utterly  impossible  to  check  this  determined 
waltzer. 

"It's  an  educated  horse!"  cried  Sacha,  laughing; 
"but  I  think  I'd  rather  ride  the  trunk  of  a  tree  for  all 
that." 

Our  friend,  now  thoroughly  frightened,  quite  uncon- 
sciously pressed  his  father's  boots,  which  unfortunately 
happened  to  be  provided  with  spurs,  into  the  horse's 
flanks,  whereupon  the  animal  started  off  on  a  swift  gallop, 
and  we  could  hear  Porphyre  call  out  tremblingly,  — 

"  Gently !  be  quiet,  now !     Whoa !     whoa !  !  whoa ! !  !  " 

But  all  in  vain.  The  white  horse  had  never  had  a 
rider  of  this  sort  on  his  back  before.  He  wondered  what 
it  meant ;  he  lost  his  head  completely,  and  flew  on  and  on 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind.  Porphyre's  new  hat  flew  off, 
and  the  gray  caftan  and  blue  sash  streamed  wildly  out 
behind  him.  The  dogs,  too,  started  in  pursuit,  barking 
with  all  their  might. 

Porphyre  clasped  his  arms  around  the  horse's  neck ;  he 
clung  to  his  mane,  to  his  ears;  he  shrieked  wildly  for 
help.  Sacha  and  I,  in  company  with  the  dogs,  —  Snap  was 
at  the  head  of  the  gang,  —  started  after  him.  Soon  the 
horse  and  rider  became  merely  a  white  speck  in  the  distance. 


PORPHYRE   AND   THE   CIRCUS   HORSE. 


THE  S1TOVKA  FAIR.  95 

"  He  '11  be  killed !  the  poor  fellow  will  certainly  be 
killed  !  "  cried  Sacha. 

Just  then  the  horse  leaped  a  hedge.  A  shallow  pond 
lay  on  the  other  side  of  it,  and  with  a  terrible  cry,  Por- 
phyre  fell  to  the  ground. 

We  ran  with  all  our  might,  raised  him  up,  and  examined 
him. 

"  There  are  no  bones  broken,"  said  Sacha,  joyfully. 
"  What  a  terrible  scare  you  gave  us !  " 

Porphyre  had  really  received  no  injuries  except  a  few 
slight  bruises,  but  the  fine  gray  caftan  and  handsome  blue 
sash  were  in  a  frightful  condition.  Both  were  a  mass  of 
mud;  even  Porphyre's  round  face  and  thick  yellow  hair 
were  covered  with  it. 

"  Luck  is  always  against  me :  there  is  no  doubt  about 
it,"  groaned  Porphyre,  tragically. 

"  Don't  complain,"  said  Sacha,  biting  her  lips  to  keep 
from  laughing.  "  The  mud  eased  your  fall.  You  might 
have  been  killed  but  for  that!  " 

As  for  me,  I  was  holding  my  sides ;  but  though  I  did  n't 
hesitate  to  laugh  at  my  unfortunate  friend,  I  very  willingly 
assisted  Sacha  in  her  efforts  to  restore  the  unfortunate 
cavalier  to  some  semblance  of  his  former  self.  We  brushed 
him  and  rubbed  him  with  grass,  torn  up  by  handfuls  on  the 
roadside ;  but  he  could  not  be  made  presentable,  for  to 
crown  his  misfortunes  he  had  fallen  in  the  nettles  that 
bordered  the  pond.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  face  was  on 
fire,  and  he  scratched  it  so  furiously  that  big  white  blisters 
appeared  upon  his  cheeks  and  nose. 

"  Where  is  my  hat?  "  he  suddenly  cried,  in  a  voice  that 
made  us  tremble,  as  he  raised  both  hands  despairingly  to 
his  head. 


96  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  ran  to  look  for  it,  but  what  a  sight  it  was  !  Snap  had 
found  it  and  torn  it  nearly  into  fragments.  It  was  a 
tattered,  shapeless  piece  of  headgear  that  even  a  gypsy 
would  scorn  to  wear.  On  seeing  me,  Snap  dropped  it, 
wagged  his  tail  in  the  most  engaging  manner,  and  laid 
his  paw  on  the  hat  as  if  to  challenge  me  to  a  game.  He 
was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  seemed  to  think  I  ought  to 
share  his  gayety.  I  gave  him  a  violent  cuff,  that  appeared 
to  surprise  him  very  much ;  but  he  persisted  in  believing 
that  this  was  only  a  part  of  the  fun,  and  bounded  gayly 
after  me. 

On  regaining  possession  of  his  hat,  Porphyre  uttered  a 
cry  of  mingled  wrath  and  dismay. 

"  My  new  hat !  "  he  groaned.  "  Oh,  what  will  Mother 
say?  She  told  me  to  be  so  careful  of  it." 

The  pope's  wife  was  not  likely  to  view  her  son's  escapade 
with  a  lenient  eye.  She  was  a  strict  disciplinarian,  and  dry 
bread,  solitary  confinement,  and  perhaps  the  lash,  —  these 
were  what  our  companion  had  every  reason  to  anticipate. 

We  gazed  at  each  other  in  speechless  consternation  for 
several  minutes. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  Sacha,  at  last.  "  Dmitri  meant  to 
give  me  a  doll;  I  have  several  kopecks,  and  you,  Por- 
phyre, must  have  some  of  your  rouble  left  "  (there  was  a 
gleam  of  mischief  in  her  eyes  as  she  uttered  these  words)  ; 
"  well,  let  us  all  put  our  money  together,  and  buy  another 
hat  for  Porphyre." 

I  made  a  slight  grimace,  and  Porphyre  protested  a  little, 
but  Sacha  had  her  way. 

We  selected  another  hat,  —  a  larger  one  this  time. 

"  Now,  let 's  hurry  home  so  you  can  dry  yourself," 
Sacha  remarked,  after  the  purchase  was  made. 


THE  SITOVKA  FAIR.  97 

As  we  were  plodding  toward  our  cottage  we  very  nar- 
rowly escaped  being  knocked  down  by  the  big  white  horse, 
who  was  galloping  back  to  his  stable  with  quivering  nostrils 
and  tail  high  in  the  air. 

"  How  fortunate !  He  might  have  made  his  escape  to 
the  plains,  and  then  there  would  have  been  nothing  left  for 
me  to  do  but  kill  myself!  "  cried  Porphyre,  gloomily. 

Sacha  did  her  best  to  remove  all  traces  of  the  accident 
by  a  lavish  use  of  warm  water  and  soap.  My  father  ap- 
plied a  soothing  lotion  to  the  poor  lad's  face,  and  the  day 
ended  very  peacefully.  In  the  evening,  my  father  took  all 
three  of  us  to  the  circus,  where  we  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  white  horse  fire  a  pistol  and  say  his  letters 
as  if  he  had  spent  his  life  in  a  shooting  gallery  and  a 
school-room. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AN   IRREPARABLE   LOSS. 

T  HAVE  lingered  over  the  memories  of  those  happy 
days,  for  I  am  nearing  the  most  sorrowful  period  of 
my  life,  and  I  shrink  from  speaking  of  it.  Very  soon 
after  the  events  I  have  just  narrated,  I  lost  my  father.  I 
have  known  many  bitter  trials  since,  and  I  have  spent 
many  gloomy  hours,  but  no  misery  that  could  be  com- 
pared with  my  utter  desolation  and  despair  when  my  only 
friend  departed,  leaving  me  alone  in  this  dreary  world. 

Up  to  that  time,  I  had  been  only  a  thoughtless,  light- 
hearted  child ;  but  my  father's  death  effected  a  complete 
transformation  in  me.  My  childhood  ended  then  and 
there,  and  everything  assumed  a  changed  aspect  in  my 
eyes. 

It  was  autumn,  and  my  fourteenth  birthday  had  just 
passed,  when  the  condition  of  my  father's  health  became 
much  more  alarming.  Day  by  day  he  became  thinner, 
and  his  chest  more  contracted,  while  the  hectic  flush  upon 
his  cheeks  made  the  wax-like  pallor  of  the  rest  of  his  face 
all  the  more  noticeable,  and  his  sunken  eyes  gleamed  with 
extraordinary  brilliancy.  Still,  I  suspected  nothing;  but 
one  day,  as  I  was  passing  a  field  bordered  by  a  thick 
hedge,  in  which  two  men  were  working,  my  father  drove 
by  in  his  shabby  old  tftegue.  He  spoke  to  them  pleasantly, 
calling  them  both  by  name. 


4N  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  99 

"  God  help  you,  Fe"  dor  Illitch ! "  they  responded  solemnly. 

"  Until  time  shall  be  no  more,"  answered  my  father. 

The  laborers  stood  for  a  moment  watching  him. 

"  He  will  soon  see  the  Saviour  face  to  face,"  said  the 
elder  of  them,  as  he  stooped  to  pick  up  his  spade  again. 

His  companion  sighed. 

"  He  to-day ;  you  or  I  to-morrow,  perhaps,"  he  answered, 
with  an  air  of  resignation. 

And  they  resumed  their  work. 

But  I  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge,  as  if  petri- 
fied, so  completely  was  I  stunned  by  this  terrible  revela- 
tion. Was  it  possible  ?  Could  it  be  that  my  father  was 
about  to  leave  me,  —  me,  who  had  never  been  separated 
from  him  a  day  in  my  life  ?  I  was  about  to  lose  him  !  A 
little  while,  and  I  should  see  his  kind  face  and  hear  his 
loving  voice  no  more !  I  should  be  left  without  a  single 
near  relative  to  help  me  endure  existence  in  a  world  which 
had  suddenly  become  intolerably  cold  and  desolate  !  And 
I  might  live  on  without  my  father  sixty,  even  eighty  years 
perhaps,  I  was  so  strong  and  healthy !  A  feeling  of  abject 
terror  seized  me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  endure  such  a  calamity.  The  mere  thought 
of  death  was  unspeakably  revolting  to  me,  and  in  my 
agony  of  soul  I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  shrieking 
aloud ;  but  I  could  not  bear  that  the  peasants  should  see 
my  grief,  so  I  precipitately  fled. 

Like  Sacha,  I  rushed  to  the  forest  to  hide  my  misery. 
Poor  little  Sacha !  she,  too,  would  be  left  without  a  home 
or  protector.  Tears  of  compassion  for  her  as  well  as  for 
myself  filled  my  eyes;  and  throwing  myself  down  upon 
the  moss,  I  wept  as  if  my  heart  would  break.  Oh,  my 
father,  my  only  friend !  why  should  you  be  taken  from  us? 


100  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

For  several  years  I  had  felt  a  vague  fear  of  this  misfortune, 
but  never  once  had  I  looked  the  reality  full  in  the  face. 
I  had  resolutely  blinded  myself  to  the  ravages  the  disease 
was  making,  —  no  very  difficult  task,  as  my  father  was 
always  so  cheerful  and  courageous,  and  so  loath  to  admit 
he  was  suffering,  that  he  seemed  to  defy  his  malady  to  get 
the  better  of  him. 

But  undeceived  by  the  remarks  I  had  just  heard,  I  could 
not  doubt  that  his  days  were  numbered.  A  thousand  tri- 
fling incidents,  a  thousand  petty  details,  recurred  to  my 
mind,  —  his  shorter  and  more  labored  breathing ;  the  fre- 
quent fits  of  coughing  that  tore  his  lungs  and  stained  his 
lips  with  blood ;  the  evident  effort  it  cost  him  to  get  in  and 
out  of  his  carriage ;  his  almost  insurmountable  aversion  to 
our  coarse  food;  and  above  all,  that  anxious,  sorrowful, 
far-away  look,  which  I  had  sometimes  noticed  in  his  eyes, 
and  which  recurred  to  me  so  distinctly  now,  —  the  far-away 
look  of  one  already  on  the  borders  of  the  celestial  land. 

As  I  gazed  tearfully  around  me,  the  thought  that  this 
still  beautiful  earth  would  soon  close  over  him  forever 
filled  me  with  despair.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  autumnal 
sunshine,  the  calm  repose  of  nature,  the  lovely  landscape, 
were  all  cruel  and  unfeeling.  What  did  my  grief  and  de- 
spair matter  to  them?  The  grass  would  be  no  less  green, 
the  sky  no  less  blue.  At  the  same  time,  I  remembered 
how  little  comfort  I  had  been  to  this  beloved  parent.  I 
had  not  even  given  him  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  me  profit 
by  the  advantages  he  had  given  me ;  I  had  even  allowed 
the  few  talents  with  which  I  was  endowed  to  remain  idle. 
How  mortified  such  a  learned  and  clever  man  must  have 
felt  to  see  his  son  so  dull !  I  longed  to  run  after  him  and 
promise  to  do  better  in  the  future ;  to  swear  that  I  would 


/IN  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  IOI 

never  again  selfishly  yield  to  my  love  of  idleness ;  but  the 
strange  difficulty  I  had  always  had  in  expressing  my  feel- 
ings deterred  me.  Had  I  ever  overcome  my  natural  re- 
serve sufficiently  to  give  him  any  verbal  assurance  of  my 
affection  ?  No ;  and  yet  I  loved  him,  —  loved  him  with 
my  whole  heart!  But  this  new  grief  was  assuaged  in  a 
measure  by  the  conviction  that  he  knew  my  affection  for 
him,  and  that  we  really  understood  each  other. 

I  recalled  a  hundred  proofs  of  his  tender  love  for  Sacha 
and  me.  My  father,  my  beloved  father !  And  he  would 
soon  leave  me  forever !  I  should  have  him  only  a  little 
while  longer  now !  I  thought  bitterly  of  the  middle-aged 
people  in  our  village  —  old  people  they  seemed  to  me  — 
whose  aged  parents  were  still  spared  to  them,  while  my 
father  was  soon  to  be  taken  from  me.  Ignat  Stepanovitch, 
the  peasant  whose  ominous  remark  I  had  overheard  a  few 
minutes  before,  had  a  son  thirty  years  old,  and  yet  his  poor 
old  father  was  still  alive,  bent  almost  double,  toothless,  im- 
becile, and  half  blind.  Why  should  this  old  man,  whose  life 
must  be  a  burden  to  him,  live  on,  and  my  father  be  cut 
down  in  his  prime?  Not  that  I  wished  any  harm  to  Ignat  or 
old  Stepan ;  but  I  said  to  myself  that  at  their  age  they 
must  certainly  feel  more  resigned  to  parting  with  each 
other  than  my  father  and  I ! 

It  was  not  until  nightfall  that  I  left  the  forest  and  slowly 
wended  my  way  homeward.  I  found  my  father  lying  back 
in  his  big  armchair,  gasping  for  breath.  It  was  so  dark 
in  the  room  that  I  could  not  see  his  face;  but  I  crept  softly 
up  to  him  and 'seated  myself  on  the  floor  at  his  feet.  A 
few  minutes  passed  in  silence ;  then,  placing  his  emaciated 
hand  tenderly  on  my  head,  he  asked  gently,  — 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Mitia?  " 


102  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

But  I  could  not  answer  him.  A  big  lump  rose  in  my 
throat;  I  bowed  my  head,  and  in  another  moment  I  was 
sobbing  wildly. 

"  My  poor  child,  my  poor  dear  boy !  "  said  my  father. 
"  My  heart  bleeds  at  the  thought  of  the  loneliness  in  store 
for  you.  You  must  see,  my  son,  that  I  have  not  long  to 
live ;  I  feel  that  I  have  made  my  last  round  of  visits  to-day. 
We  must  soon  bid  each  other  farewell,  my  dear  child.  I 
shall  leave  you  alone  in  the  world,  without  fortune,  without 
relatives,  without  even  a  protector !  I  have  nothing  to 
bequeath  to  you  but  an  unsullied  name,  that  I  once  hoped 
to  make  illustrious.  Alas  !  that  was  not  to  be  !  But  you, 
my  son,  will  you  not  achieve  something  for  your  father's 
sake?  Will  you  not  make  an  effort  to  rise  from  the  ob- 
scurity to  which  fate  condemned  him?  You  are  not  with- 
out ability,  and  you  can,  if  you  choose,  elevate  yourself 
above  the  common  herd.  During  your  childhood,  as  you 
know,  I  would  not  consent  to  torment  you  with  studies 
that  had  no  attraction  for  you.  Do  not  make  me  regret 
my  indulgence,  my  dear  son.  Now  that  you  will  soon 
be  without  a  friend  or  adviser,  and  have  your  adopted 
sister  to  take  care  of,  it  is  time  for  you  to  put  away  child- 
ish things  and  become  a  man,  in  order  to  protect  yourself 
and  her.  Can  I  depend  upon  you,  Dmitri?" 

"  Yes,  Father,"  I  replied,  choking  down  my  sobs. 

"  Never  forget  that  there  is  nothing  half  so  precious  as 
your  honor,"  continued  my  father.  "  Suffer  everything, — 
hunger,  thirst,  even  death  itself,  if  need  be !  —  rather  than 
commit  a  base  or  dishonorable  act.  Never  attack  one  who 
is  weaker  than  yourself;  respect  the  poor  and  unfortunate ; 
never  cringe  to  the  rich  and  powerful.  Recollect  that 
a  man's  worth  depends  entirely  upon  personal  merit, 


/IN  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  103 

and  that  the  humblest  peasant  is  the  peer  of  the  throned 
czar,  if  his  heart  is  pure  and  his  life  upright.  Be  honest, 
truthful,  and  just.  Your  poverty  and  isolation  will  perhaps 
expose  you  to  many  temptations,  but  never  yield  to  them, 
Dmitri.  Choose  death  rather  than  dishonor !  " 

I  have  never  forgotten  those  words. 

We  sat  in  silence  a  long  time.  I  had  taken  my  father's 
hand  in  mine,  and  was  clasping  it  tightly,  as  if  hoping  in 
this  way  to  keep  him  with  me. 

Sacha  had  stolen  noiselessly  in,  and  was  kneeling  beside 
me. 

After  a  little,  he  spoke  again,  but  in  a  much  feebler 
voice  this  time. 

"  Listen  to  me,  my  children,"  he  said  tenderly.  "  Now, 
I  know  that  death  is  so  near,  —  don't  sob  so,  Sacha,  dear, 
—  I  must  talk  with  you  and  tell  you  what  you  had  better 
do.  I  have  given  much  thought  to  the  subject.  It  would 
not  be  hard  for  me  to  die  if  it  were  not  for  my  anxiety 
concerning  your  future.  I  have  a  friend  in  Moscow. 
You  have  heard  me  speak  of  him,  Dmitri.  His  name  is 
Nicholas  Ivanovitch  Berezoff.  We  were  playmates  in 
childhood.  He,  his  brother  Alexis,  and  I  were  also  fellow 
students  at  the  University  in  Moscow ;  and  though  circum- 
stances have  caused  us  to  drift  apart,  and  almost  lose 
sight  of  each  other,  I  have  always  felt  a  deep  affection  for 
him,  and  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  his  sentiments 
toward  me  have  undergone  no  change.  I  have  therefore 
written  to  him,  explaining  the  situation  in  which  you  will 
be  placed.  Heaven  grant  that  he  replies  in  time  for  me 
to  know  that  you  will  have  a  protector  before  our  last 
farewell !  But  alas !  my  strength  is  failing  fast !  The  end 
is  near  at  hand.  Dmitri,  if  this  hope  should  not  be 


IO4  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

realized,  my  last  request  is  that  you  should  acquire  a  good 
education,  —  I  have  been  very  much  to  blame ;  I  ought 
not  to  have  allowed  you  to  neglect  your  studies  so  much, 
perhaps." 

"  Oh,  Father,  don't  say  that !  You  acted  for  the  best. 
I  will  work  now,  I  give  you  my  word  I  will !  You  don't 
know  how  hard  I  will  study,  —  and  Sacha,  too,  shall  have 
an  education." 

"  She  will  have  much  less  difficulty  in  acquiring  it  than 
you  will,  I  think,"  said  my  father,  stroking  the  little  brown 
head  tenderly.  "  But  don't  allow  yourself  to  become  dis- 
couraged, my  dear,  dear  boy.  Patience  and  perseverance 
will  conquer  all  things ;  and  though  you  may  not  be  very 
fond  of  books,  you  are  very  patient,  are  you  not, 
Mitia?" 

"  Yes,  Father ;  and  determined,  too,  when  I  once  make  up 
my  mind  to  do  anything." 

And  almost  unconsciously  I  clenched  my  fists  as  I 
thought  of  the  struggle  before  me.  Ah,  if  physical 
strength  had  been  the  only  requisite !  —  still,  that  might 
be  of  no  slight  assistance. 

My  father  seemed  to  read  my  thoughts,  for  he  laid  his 
burning  hand  on  the  brawny  shoulders  of  which  I  was  so 
proud,  and  said, — 

"  Fortunately  you  are  strong  and  well,  and  a  few  priva- 
tions will  do  you  no  harm.  Perhaps  they  will  even  be  an 
advantage  to  you.  But  this  child,  this  frail  delicate  flower 
—  I  feel  very  anxious  about  her,  —  even  more  anxious  than 
about  you,  Mitia.  What  shall  we  do  about  her,  my  son?" 

"  God  only  knows  !  "  I  sighed. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  so  long  as  I  have  Mitia,"  said  Sacha, 
quickly. 


AN  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  105 

"  Dear  child !  "  exclaimed  my  father,  deeply  touched. 
And  he  pressed  us  both  to  his  heart. 

From  that  time  on,  my  father  failed  rapidly.  The  next 
morning  he  tried  to  go  out  and  visit  his  patients  as  usual; 
but  this  proved  an  impossibility,  as  he  had  predicted ;  and 
he  seated  himself  in  the  large  armchair  which  I  had  placed 
by  the  open  window,  for  the  one  thing  absolutely  necessary 
to  him  now  was  air.  Every  few  minutes  his  labored 
breathing  was  interrupted  by  fits  of  terrible  suffocation,  or 
of  frightful  coughing,  which  shook  him  from  head  to  foot, 
and  left  him  completely  exhausted. 

The  sight  of  his  sufferings  was  agony  to  me,  and  I  hid 
behind  the  sofa,  trembling  all  over  with  grief  and  impotent 
rage ;  but  Sacha,  more  courageous  than  I,  remained  beside 
him,  tenderly  wiping  off  the  cold  sweat  that  bedewed  his 
forehead,  bathing  his  temples  with  fresh  water  and  aro- 
matic vinegar,  and  fanning  him  gently  with  a  big  palm-leaf. 
Indeed,  I  could  not  but  marvel  at  the  skill  with  which  she 
replaced  the  pillows  and  cushions  about  his  shoulders,  and 
the  promptness  with  which  she  handed  him  the  desired 
glass  of  cold  tea  or  lemonade  before  he  even  had  time  to 
express  a  wish  for  it 

During  the  week  that  followed,  our  little  cottage  was 
constantly  thronged  with  neighbors  who  came  to  offer 
assistance  or  express  their  sympathy;  but  as  a  general 
thing  they  remained  seated  in  silence  upon  the  benches 
that  lined  the  walls.  Occasionally  one  of  them  would 
awkwardly  rise,  and  say, — 

"  Life  is  hard,  Fe"dor  Illitch.  Rest  will  be  sweet  to 
you." 

"  Yes,  brother." 

"  May  eternal  happiness  be  your  portion  !  " 


106  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  I  thank  you." 

"  God  be  with  you  !  " 

Then  the  visitor  would  steal  out,  shaking  his  head  sorrow- 
fully. The  women  wept  softly  as  they  sipped  their  tea. 

"  Poor  soul,  his  time  has  come !  "  they  often  exclaimed 
compassionately. 

Every  human  soul  in  the  village  grieved  sincerely,  for 
everybody  loved  my  father.  Every  one,  even  the  humblest 
peasant,  had  experienced  numerous  proofs  of  his  kindness 
of  heart  and  unfailing  generosity. 

One  afternoon  as  we  were  all  sitting  around  him,  the 
door  opened,  and  the  Princess  Lebanoff  appeared  upon  the 
threshold.  I  did  not  even  know  that  she  was  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Her  cousin,  the  venerable  Prince  Arcadion 
Semonovitch  Bekounine,  was  with  her. 

"  They  tell  me  you  are  seriously  ill,  Fedor  Illitch,"  she 
remarked,  as  she  entered. 

I  was  struck  by  her  foreign  accent.  Though  she  spoke 
Russian  very  correctly,  one  could  see  that  it  was  not  the 
language  she  used  ordinarily.  I  learned  afterwards  that 
she  spoke  French  almost  invariably.  Mme.  Lebanoff  was, 
in  every  sense  of  the  word,  a  great  lady;  but  she  had 
always  evinced  a  marked  respect  for  my  father ;  and  even 
at  that  sad  time,  I  noticed  the  deference  she  manifested, 
and  the  graceful  ease  with  which  my  father  answered  her. 
To  other  people,  the  lady's  manner  was  extremely  haughty. 
Meanwhile  our  humble  friends  had  discreetly  retired. 

"  Very  ill  indeed,  Daria  Alexandrovna,"  replied  my 
father.  "  I  have  not  many  more  days  to  live  now." 

"  You  may  recover." 

"  No,  I  am  doomed.  I  submit  to  my  fate.  Dmitri,  bring 
a  chair  for  the  princess." 


"  THAT   CHILD    IS    CHARMING  !  " 


AN  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  109 

"Is  that  your  son?" 

"  My  only  son." 

"  And  that  little  girl,  I  see  there?  " 

"  Is  my  adopted  daughter." 

"  Ah !  " 

As  she  continued  her  conversation  with  my  father,  Mme. 
Lebanoff  drew  from  her  belt  a  long-handled  tortoise-shell 
eyeglass,  and  began  to  examine  Sacha.  Soon,  pausing 
abruptly  in  the  middle  of  a  remark,  she  exclaimed,  point- 
ing to  my  sister  with  her  lorgnette,  — 

"  Do  you  know,  F^dor  Illitch,  that  that  child  is  charm- 
ing, —  positively  charming?  She  certainly  is  not  a  peasant 
by  birth." 

"  I  know  nothing  whatever  about  her  origin,"  replied 
my  father. 

"Is  it  possible?  Well,  she  is  a  little  beauty,  I  assure 
you ;  and  I  am  certainly  a  judge.  What  lovely  eyes  she  has, 
and  what  hair !  Such  an  exquisite  profile,  too  !  Yes,  she 
is  that  rarest  of  all  things, —  a  true  aristocrat  in  appear- 
ance. Come  here,  my  dear,  and  let  me  get  a  better 
look  at  you.  Arcadion  Semonovitch,  is  she  not  charming?  " 

"  Truly  charming,"  responded  the  old  nobleman,  bowing 
gallantly. 

The  princess  took  Sacha's  little  brown  hands  in  hers, 
and  again  burst  out  into  enthusiastic  praises  of  the  em- 
barrassed child's  grace  and  beauty.  I  was  amazed,  for 
though  I  loved  Sacha  dearly,  it  had  never  once  occurred 
to  me  to  ask  whether  she  were  pretty  or  ugly. 

"  She  is  a  perfect  beauty,  I  assure  you  !  "  exclaimed  the 
princess.  "  What  a  divine  creature  one  could  make  of  a 
child  like  this !  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  her, 
Fedor  Illitch  ?'* 


110  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

My  father's  face  clouded. 

"Alas!  the  thought  of  the  child's  future  appalls  me.  I 
can  only  leave  her  fate  to  Providence.  I  am  a  poor  man, 
and  can  make  no  provision  for  her ;  but  I  have  written  to 
an  old  schoolmate  in  Moscow,  and  I  hope  and  believe 
that  he  will  take  charge  of  these  poor  children  after  my 
death." 

The  lady's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  at  these  words. 

"An  old  schoolmate!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  could 
a  man  do  with  a  child  like  that?  No,  no,  you  must  give 
her  to  me." 

"To  you?" 

"  Yes,  to  me.  Do  you  doubt  my  ability  to  rear  her 
properly?" 

"  Certainly  not.     Still  —  " 

"  Don't  make  any  more  objections,  I  beg  of  you,  my 
dear  Te"rentieff;  I  will  not  listen  to  them.  This  child  is 
charming,  and  it  would  be  a  positive  crime,  to  let  her 
vegetate  here ;  I  beg  your  pardon,  Fedor  Illitch,  —  but 
that  fact  must  be  apparent  to  any  one.  She  was  born  to 
shine  in  society.  She  has  noble  blood  in  her  veins,  un- 
questionably, and  she  ought  to  be  restored  to  her  proper 
sphere ;  that  is  what  I  propose  to  do,  my  friend,  —  with 
your  permission,  of  course." 

My  father  seemed  greatly  perplexed. 

"  Why,  in  Heaven's  name,  should  you  object?  "  cried  the 
princess,  impetuously.  "  I  offer  the  child  a  superior  edu- 
cation, every  comfort,  and  a  place  in  the  best  society. 
You  have  nothing  to  give  her  but  the  possible  protection 
of  an  old  schoolmate,  and  yet  you  hesitate  !  " 

"  If  I  were  sure  that  the  arrangement  would  be  perma- 
nent," murmured  my  father,  anxiously. 


AN  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  Ill 

"  Oh,  nothing  can  last  forever  in  this  world,"  responded 
Mme.  Lebanoff,  carelessly.  "  You  adopted  her  yourself, 
and  now  propose  passing  her  over  to  an  old  friend.  Why 
should  not  I  do  the  same,  if  need  be  ?  " 

"  God  is  my  witness  that  it  is  not  of  my  own  free  will  I 
abandon  her,"  faltered  my  father;  "  but  —  " 

"  Don't  have  a  worse  opinion  of  me  than  I  deserve, 
Fedor  Illitch.  If  I  ask  you  for  the  child,  it  is  for  her  own 
good,  rest  assured." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Mme.  Lebanoff's  proposal, 
Sacha?"  asked  my  father. 

"  I  don't  want  to  leave  Dmitri,"  stammered  Sacha,  draw- 
ing closer  to  me. 

"That  big  boy?"  responded  the  princess,  haughtily. 
"  Why,  that  is  all  nonsense,  child.  How  could  he  take 
care  of  you?  How  could  he  procure  the  masters  that  you 
need,  and  the  money  to  pay  them.  All  this  will  cost  a 
good  deal,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  generous  offer,  Daria  Alexan- 
drovna,"  answered  my  father;  "  but  you  must  forgive  me, 
if  I  say  that  I  cannot  accept  it  unless  my  friend  refuses  to 
take  charge  of  the  child.  I  confess  that  I  should  prefer  a 
less  exalted  position  in  life  for  her;  but,  as  she  may  find 
herself  without  protection,  I  thank  you  for  offering  yours, 
and  under  those  circumstances,  shall  be  glad  to  accept  it." 

"  But  only  as  a  last  resort,  I  see,"  retorted  the  princess, 
dryly.  "  Well,  I  shall  not  retract  my  promise.  I  have 
taken  a  great  fancy  to  the  little  girl,  so  I  will  consent  to 
your  conditions.  When  do  you  expect  to  hear  from  your 
friend?" 

"  I  may  never  hear  from  him,"  murmured  my  father, 
despondently. 


112  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  Then  if  you  do  not  recover,  —  and  there  is  very  little 
chance  of  that,  I  fear,  my  good  Terentieff,  —  and  if  your 
friend  does  not  give  you  a  satisfactory  answer,  I  am  to 
have  the  child;  and  she  will  have  no  cause  to  regret  it, 
I  assure  you.  Dear  little  thing!  I  love  her  already. 
Arcadion,  confess  that  she  is  a  perfect  beauty." 

She  caught  Sacha  up  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  affec- 
tionately, without  appearing  to  notice  my  little  sister's 
evident  desire  to  avoid  the  caress;  then,  seeing  that  my 
father  seemed  greatly  exhausted,  she  concluded  her  visit 
with  a  few  commonplaces,  expressive  of  a  hope  that  he 
might  speedily  be  restored  to  health,  and  gracefully  re- 
tired. Our  hearts  were  heavier  than  ever  when  she  left 
us.  Sacha  wept  so  bitterly  that  my  father  at  last  called 
her  to  him,  and  in  spite  of  his  great  weakness,  tried  to 
make  her  understand  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
refuse  Mme.  Lebanoff's  offer.  Uncertain  as  this  proffered 
protection  might  be,  he  could  die  with  a  more  tranquil 
mind  if  he  knew  that  she  was  provided  for.  So  conquer- 
ing my  own  grief,  I  united  my  entreaties  to  his ;  but  poor 
Sacha  still  rebelled. 

"  Oh,  Dmitri,  let  me  stay  with  you,"  she  pleaded. 
"What  will  become  of  me  if  I  have  to  go  with  that  lady? 
I  am  afraid  of  her.  Oh,  keep  me  with  you !  " 

We  were  unspeakably  wretched.  Suspense  and  the 
likelihood  of  a  speedy  separation  made  the  sadness  of 
these  last  days  of  my  father's  life  all  the  more  poignant. 

My  father  was  dying;  the  only  thing  that  seemed  to 
keep  him  alive  was  the  hope  of  a  letter  from  Nicholas 
Be'r^zoff,  and  this  letter  did  not  come. 

At  last  the  hour  of  parting  came.  Words  are  powerless 
to  describe  the  anguish  that  filled  my  soul  when  I  saw  the 


AN  IRREPARABLE  LOSS.  113 

light  of  consciousness  slowly  fade  out  of  my  father's  eyes, 
and  the  terrible  and  mysterious  shadow  of  death  settle 
down  upon  his  features,  —  the  dread  change  one  can  never 
forget  when  he  has  once  seen  it  upon  a  beloved  face.  But 
once  more  his  eyes  opened  and  met  my  agonized  gaze. 
"  Courage !  "  murmured  the  livid  lips. 

Then  all  was  over.  I  rushed  out  into  the  old  shed  like 
one  bereft  of  reason,  and  throwing  myself  face  downward 
on  the  ground,  wept  as  if  my  heart  would  break. 

Dead !  my  father  dead !  It  seemed  to  me  that  every- 
thing had  been  swept  away  with  him.  The  immensity  of 
my  loss  overwhelmed  me.  I  was  alone  in  the  world ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   CRUEL   DISAPPOINTMENT. 

SEVERAL  days  had  elapsed.  The  remains  of  my  be- 
loved parent  had  been  interred  in  the  dreary  little 
cemetery  on  the  plain  just  outside  the  village.  I  realized 
now  that  all  was  indeed  over,  —  that  I  could  never  hope 
to  see  my  dear  father  again,  or  hear  his  voice,  or  meet  his 
loving  gaze.  How  dreary  the  cottage  seemed !  I  could 
not  bear  the  sight  of  his  big  armchair,  which  appeared  to 
be  always  waiting  for  him.  The  books  he  had  read,  his 
inkstand  and  pen,  his  very  garments,  —  all  seemed  to  be 
expecting  his  return ;  and  he  would  never  return. 

I  did  not  crave  sympathy  in  my  bereavement ;  on  the 
contrary,  I  shunned  it,  and  would  not  even  allow  Sacha  to 
mourn  with  me.  I  roamed  about  the  fields  all  day,  with 
my  good  dog  Snap  for  my  sole  companion.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  he  understood  me  better  than  any  one  else.  He 
even  seemed  to  realize  our  loss.  Sometimes  he  got  up  and 
wandered  around  the  room;  then  (when  the  hour  came 
at  which  my  father  had  been  wont  to  return)  he  went  to 
the  door,  and  scratched  and  barked;  and  after  waiting 
awhile  in  vain,  howled  wildly  and  lugubriously. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  this  state  of  stupor  would  have 
lasted,  if  I  had  not  been  aroused  from  it  by  Sacha's  depar- 
ture. The  princess  sent  for  her  one  morning.  She  was 
about  to  start  for  Nice,  her  messenger,  Prince  Be"kounine, 


A  CRUEL  DISAPPOINTMENT.  115 

said,  and  he  had  come  for  the  little  girl,  in  accordance  with 
the  agreement  made  with  Fedor  Illitch. 

Our  grief  and  consternation  were  intense.  How  bitterly 
I  reproached  myself  now  for  having  neglected  my  dear 
little  sister,  and  rejected  her  loving  sympathy  in  the  great 
bereavement  which  should  have  united  us  even  more 
closely !  It  is  generally  so  in  life :  one  seldom  shows  one's 
real  appreciation  of  the  society  of  those  one  loves,  or 
manifests  half  one's  real  affection  for  them;  then  comes 
separation  or  death,  and  after  that,  lifelong  regret. 

We  pleaded  in  vain  for  a  reprieve.  We  might  yet  receive 
*a  letter  from  M.  Ber6zoff.  Might  we  not  be  allowed  at  least 
a  few  days  to  accustom  ourselves  to  the  idea  of  parting? 
But  Mme.  Lebanoff  was  inexorable.  She  could  not  defer 
her  departure  another  day,  and  Sacha  bade  me  a  tearful 
farewell.  We  did  not  part  without  exchanging  a  solemn 
promise,  however. 

"  Sacha,  as  soon  as  I  am  grown,  and  I  have  secured  a 
good  situation,  I  shall  come  for  you,  wherever  you  may  be. 
Don't  forget  it." 

"  I  shall  wait  for  you,  Mitia,  —  I  promise  you  that." 

Then  the  prince  took  her  away. 

Two  hours  afterwards,  hearing  the  sound  of  carriage 
wheels,  I  ran  to  the  door,  and  saw  Mme.  Lebanoff's 
big  travelling  carriage  pass,  drawn  by  three  superb  horses. 
Sacha's  little  brown  head  was  leaning  out  of  the  window ; 
she  waved  me  a  farewell,  and  the  vehicle  disappeared  from 
sight  in  a  thick  cloud  of  dust. 

I  re-entered  our  deserted  home  with  a  breaking  heart.  I 
passed  two  days  in  utter  solitude;  on  the  third  came  a 
letter  from  Moscow,  addressed  to  my  father.  I  tore  open 
the  envelope,  and  read  the  following  :  — 


Il6  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 


MANSION,  THE  P^TROVKA, 
Moscow,  Dec.  25,  18  —  . 

MY  DEAR  F£DOR  ILLITCH,  —  You  certainly  have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  I  have  not  forgotten  you,  and  that  I  shall  be 
only  glad  to  comply  with  your  wishes.  I  should  indeed  be  the 
possessor  of  a  bad  and  ungrateful  heart  if  I  failed  to  remember 
you.  Are  you  not  the  man  of  all  others  to  whom  I  am  most 
indebted  ?  Can  I  ever  forget  that  it  was  through  your  aid  I  was 
enabled  to  escape  without  disgrace  from  an  unfortunate  dilemma 
in  which  my  own  imprudence  had  placed  me,  and  that  my  elevation 
to  the  high  position  I  now  hold  was  due  in  a  great  measure  to 
your  wise  councils  ?  Besides,  did  you  not  save  my  life  when  I 
had  that  attack  of  malignant  typhoid  fever  while  we  were  fellow 
students  at  the  University?  But  for  your  care  and  assiduous 
nursing,  I  should  certainly  have  died.  Consequently,  I  shall  but 
partially  repay  my  manifold  obligations  to  you  by  taking  charge 
of  your  son,  if  you  are  taken  from  him.  Immediately  upon 
receipt  of  your  letter,  I  made  arrangements  for  entering  him 
at  the  Saint-  Vladimir  Gymnasium,  the  best  preparatory  school 
for  our  famous  University.  Give  yourself  no  anxiety  in  regard 
to  your  son's  future,  my  dear  Fe"dor;  I  will  take  charge  of 
that.  I  am  rich  and  childless,  —  with  no  near  relatives  since 
the  mysterious  disappearance  of  my  brother  Alexis.  I  do  not 
know  whether  you  ever  heard  the  particulars.  Many  years  have 
passed  since  I  heard  from  him,  and  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  he  is  dead.  I  certainly  have  every  reason  to  fear  it, 
for  I  cannot  believe  that  he  would  have  allowed  so  long  a 
time  to  elapse  without  communicating  with  me  if  he  were  still 
alive. 

I  will  not  express  a  hope  for  your  restoration  to  health,  my 
dear  friend,  for  I  feel  that  it  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  words. 
You  are  a  brave  man,  and  you  are  prepared  to  face  death; 
besides,  you  are  the  best  possible  judge  of  your  condition  ;  but 
I  shall  always  regret  that  we  did  not  have  an  opportunity  to  meet 
again,  and  to  exchange  one  more  cordial  grasp  of  the  hand,  as 


A  CRUEL  DISAPPOINTMENT.  ll'j 

in  the  days   of  our  youth.     God  bless  you  in  this  life  and  in  the 
life  to  come. 

N.  B£R£ZOFF. 

Enclosed  is  a  Hundred  Rouble  note  for  your  son. 

So  my  fate  was  decided  !  But  not  a  single  word  in  re- 
gard to  Sacha !  This  oversight  seemed  incomprehensible 
to  me,  and  for  the  first  time  I  rejoiced  that  she  was  safe 
with  the  princess.  Poor  child !  sensitive  as  she  was,  how 
could  she  have  borne  the  thought  of  presenting  herself 
uninvited  at  the  house  of  a  stranger? 

My  preparations  for  my  journey  were  soon  completed. 
I  packed  some  linen,  a  few  other  articles  of  clothing,  and 
some  papers  that  had  belonged  to  my  father,  in  a  small 
valise ;  then  I  paid  a  visit  to  our  priest  and  made  him  a 
present  of  our  horse  Vodka,  and  the  old  titegue.  After- 
wards, I  bade  everybody  good-by,  riot  even  excepting  Por- 
phyre,  who  seemed  utterly  unable  to  comprehend  such  a 
marvellous  thing  as  my  intended  departure.  I  entrusted 
Snap  to  his  care,  for  in  spite  of  the  grief  it  caused  me  to 
part  with  him,  I  dared  not  take  him  to  the  house  of  my 
unknown  benefactor  without  permission ;  and  the  next  morn- 
ing I  departed  on  the  wagon  of  a  neighboring  farmer  for  the 
little  town  of  V ,  where  I  took  the  train  for  Moscow. 

I  had  never  been  out  of  our  village  before,  and  the 
wonderful  sights  I  beheld  filled  me  with  astonishment; 
but  I  felt  it  obligatory  upon  me  to  conceal  this  fact  under 
an  air  of  profound  indifference. 

I  reached  Moscow  early  on  a  December  morning,  with 
only  a  few  roubles  in  my  pocket,  and  a  heart  heavy  with 
grief  and  loneliness.  I  little  suspected  what  new  trials 
awaited  me  there ! 

If  I  had  had  more  experience  I  should  have  so  arranged 


Il8  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

as  not  to  arrive  in  this  strange  city  at  such  an  early  hour. 
The  recollections  of  my  first  entrance  into  Moscow  are 
far  from  pleasant.  The  sun  had  just  risen,  but  its  pale 
rays  seemed  unable  to  force  their  way  through  the  leaden 
clouds  that  obscured  the  sky.  A  heavy  frost,  the  fore- 
runner of  a  fresh  fall  of  snow,  covered  everything;  and  a 
chill  that  penetrated  to  the  very  marrow  of  my  bones 
seized  me  as  I  stepped  from  the  train  which  had  brought 
me,  my  sorrows,  my  hopes,  and  my  scanty  wardrobe,  to 
this  new  abode. 

I  made  my  way  hastily  through  the  crowd  of  importu- 
nate coachmen  and  porters.  I  did  not  need  their  services ; 
my  valise  was  not  heavy,  and  I  counted  upon  reaching  my 
benefactor's  house  without  making  any  further  inroads 
upon  the  small  sum  of  money  I  had  in  my  pocket. 

The  amount  was  now  very  small.  One  imperial,1  two 
roubles,  and  a  few  kopecks,  —  this  was  all  that  remained  of 
the  hundred  roubles  I  had  received  from  M.  Be're'zofif. 

For  years  I  had  longed  to  behold  the  splendors  of  Mos- 
cow. I  had  often  dreamed  of  its  graceful,  richly  orna- 
mented spires,  its  gilded  cupolas,  and  its  marble  palaces. 
How  entirely  different  were  the  scenes  that  met  my  gaze, 
as  I  roamed  for  more  than  an  hour  through  narrow, 
crooked  streets  bordered  with  shabby  log-huts  in  no  way 
superior  to  those  occupied  by  the  poorest  peasants  of  our 
village !  Through  the  rough  board-fences  that  enclosed 
the  tiny  yards,  I  caught  occasional  glimpses  of  ragged  and  - 
dirty  children ;  and  though  a  two  story  dwelling  of  more 
respectable  appearance  was  visible  here  and  there,  the 
general  aspect  of  the  locality  was  poverty  stricken  and 
squalid  in  the  extreme. 

1  A  coin  worth  about  four  dollars. 


A   CRUEL  DISAPPOINTMENT.  119 

Turning  at  last  into  a  broader  thoroughfare,  I  perceived 
an  omnibus  that  had  just  stopped  to  pick  up  a  passenger. 
I  questioned  the  driver,  and  finding  that  he  would  take 
me  to  the  centre  of  the  city  for  the  very  modest  sum  of 
five  kopecks,  I  entered  the  vehicle,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
found  myself  riding  along  through  broad,  clean,  and  well 
paved  streets.  As  we  whirled  around  a  corner,  the  Krem- 
lin, with  its  massive  walls,  burst  upon  my  wondering  gaze,  — 
the  Kremlin,  with  its  eighteen  towers,  its  five  cathedrals, 
its  convents,  its  dozen  or  more  churches,  its  countless 
gilded  cupolas,  and  gorgeously  painted  turrets,  now 
slightly  powdered  with  snow. 

A  feeling  of  awe  took  possession  of  me.  Now,  I  indeed 
realized  that  this  was  Moscow,  —  the  Holy  city!  Here 
I  might  justly  feel  proud  to  call  myself  a  Russian. 
Here,  I  was  in  the  real  sanctuary  of  my  country,  in 
the  very  heart  of  my  native  land,  the  real  capital  of  our 
nation ! 

Recollections  of  its  heroic  defence  in  1812  recurred  to 
my  mind.  I  pictured  Napoleon's  fierce  but  futile  attacks 
upon  our  citadel ;  and  then  the  flames  of  an  immense  fire 
that  embraced  the  entire  city,  mounting  heavenward,  —  a 
fire  lighted  by  that  city's  valiant  defenders ;  and  in  a 
transport  of  enthusiastic  patriotism,  I  cried  aloud,  "  Long 
live  Russia !  " 

The  words  had  scarcely  escaped  me  before  I  was  deeply 
ashamed  of  them,  so  great  was  the  astonishment  of  the 
people  around  me,  who  evidently  thought  me  an  escaped 
lunatic. 

Resolved  to  be  more  cautious  in  the  expression  of  my 
feelings  hereafter,  I  left  the  omnibus  when  it  reached  the 
terminus  of  the  route,  and  after  inquiring  my  way  several 


120  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

times,  I  at  last  reached  the  door  of  Nicholas  Ivanovitch 
Berezoff' s  dwelling.  It  was  a  handsome  house,  but  I  was 
surprised  to  see  that  every  window  was  closed,  and  every 
curtain  down. 

"  Nicholas  Ivanovitch  must  be  a  late  riser,"  I  said  to 
myself,  as  I  lifted  the  massive  knocker. 

I  rapped;  but  no  one  answered  the  summons,  so  I 
knocked  again,  louder  this  time,  but  with  no  better  suc- 
cess. A  third  and  fourth  attempt  proved  equally  futile. 
At  last,  a  man  sitting  in  the  doorway  of  the  adjoining 
house  asked  me  rather  curtly  if  I  was  trying  to  batter  the 
door  down. 

"  I  want  to  see  M.  Berezoff,"  I  replied. 

"  Nicholas  Ivanovitch  Berezoff?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  Nicholas  Ivanovitch  Bere"zoff  was 
buried  yesterday?  " 

"  Buried  yesterday,"  I  repeated  mechanically,  quite 
stunned  by  this  unexpected  announcement. 

"Yes,  buried.  It  was  quite  time,  as  he  died  on  Tuesday," 
added  the  man,  half  sneeringly. 

"Was  he  sick  long?  What  was  the  matter  with  him?  " 
I  stammered. 

"  He  died  very  suddenly.  He  must  have  been  taken  ill 
after  dinner,  the  servants  said.  He  went  into  his  study  to 
write,  —  he  was  always  writing,  —  and  they  found  him  there 
the  next  morning  seated  at  his  desk,  —  dead.  Apoplexy, 
probably.  He  lived  too  well,  I  suppose.  He  was  a  rich 
old  bachelor,  and  never  did  an  hour's  work  in  his  life.  We 
poor  people  have  nothing  of  that  sort  to  fear ;  that  is  one 
comfort. 

"  The  news  seems  to  astonish  you  very  much,"  continued 


'•  '  I    WANT   TO   SEE   M.  BEREZOFF,'    I    REPLIED." 


A  CRUEL  DISAPPOINTMENT.  12$ 

the  garrulous  porter ;  "  I  wonder,  though,  that  you  have  n't 
heard  of  it  before.  Everybody  has  been  talking  about 
,it.  The  strangest  thing  about  the  whole  affair,  though,  is 
that  he  died  while  he  was  making  his  will,  or  at  least 
trying  to." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked  wonderingly. 

"  Why,  as  I  told  you  before,  he  died  while  he  was  at  his 
desk  writing,  and  what  he  was  writing  at  the  time  proved 
to  be  his  will.  It  began  in  the  usual  way,  they  say ;  then 
came  something  like  this,  I  believe :  '  In  the  fear  of  being 
stricken  down  by  death,  etc.,  I  desire  to  make  my  will, 
and  so  I  leave  this  to  this  one,  and  that  to  that  one ;  and 
lastly,  in  default  of  natural  heirs,  I  hereby  designate  as  the 
heir  to  all  the  rest  of  my  property,  the  son  of  my  dearest 
friend,  young  Dmitri  — '' 

"  Dmitri  ?  "  I  exclaimed  involuntarily;  "  Dmitri  what?  " 

"  That  was  all.  Death  overtook  him  in  the  middle  of 
the  name,  and  no  one  will  ever  know  who  this  young 
Dmitri  was." 

"  But  I  know !  "  I  thought ;  "  I  know !  " 

"  If  you  take  such  an  interest  in  the  affair,  why  don't 
you  buy  a  newspaper?"  continued  the  porter.  "In  the 
'  Muscovite  Chronicle '  you  '11  find  a  full  account  of  it  in 
black  and  white." 

I  thanked  the  man,  and  ran  off  to  purchase  the  paper  he 
had  mentioned.  This  journal  confirmed  the  truth  of  his 
story.  My  father's  old  friend  was  dead,  and  his  house  was 
closed.  I  had  his  letter  in  my  pocket,  and  I  read  it  over 
again.  It  had  been  written  on  the  very  day  of  his  death, 
and  probably  only  a  short  time  before  he  began  the  will  by 
which  he  intended  to  bequeath  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  to 
me,  for  his  letter  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that  I  was  the 


124  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

young  Dmitri  referred  to.  Though  greatly  depressed  by 
the  sad  news,  it  was  not  the  loss  of  fortune  that  grieved 
me  most.  Reared  as  I  had  been,  I  attached  very  little 
value  to  money;  and  my  chief  regret  was  that  this  old 
friend  of  my  father —  a  man  who  could  have  talked  to  me 
of  my  beloved  parent,  and  told  me  about  his  youth,  and 
who  seemed  to  be  the  only  connecting  link  between  my 
present  desolation  and  my  past  happiness  —  should  have 
been  removed  from  earth. 

I  sat  a  long  time  on  a  bench  in  the  neighboring  park, 
reading  and  re-reading  the  newspaper  and  M.  Bere'zoff's 
letter  alternately.  What  would  become  of  me  now?  Un- 
practical as  I  was,  this  question  could  not  fail  to  present 
itself  to  my  mind.  What  would  become  of  me  in  this 
strange  city,  without  relatives,  money,  or  friends? 

I  had  eaten  nothing  that  morning,  and  after  a  while  my 
youthful  stomach  became  clamorous  for  food.  It  takes  a 
good  deal  to  deprive  a  fourteen-year-old  boy  of  his  appe- 
tite ;  so  I  entered  the  first  bake-shop  I  came  to,  and  pur- 
chased a  loaf  of  bread. 

Seating  myself  on  a  huge  pile  of  snow  on  the  river-bank 
almost  opposite  the  Kremlin,  I  ate  my  frugal  meal. 

This  Moscow  bread  was  certainly  much  better  than  that 
of  my  native  village,  for  I  had  bought  the  white  loaf  which 
Sacha  and  I  had  always  considered  such  a  delicacy;  but 
she  was  not  here  to  share  it,  —  fortunately  for  her !  It  was 
the  bread  of  exile,  and  it  seemed  very  bitter  to  me. 

As  I  ate,  I  watched  some  men  who  were  working  on  the 
river-bank.  They  were  very  poorly  clad,  but  they  did  not 
seem  at  all  troubled  by  their  humble  condition.  On  the 
contrary,  several  of  them  were  singing,  and  their  not  un- 
musical voices  rang  out  cheerfully  on  the  morning  air. 


A  CRUEL  DISAPPOINTMENT.  12$ 

"  There  are  some  men  who  are  no  better  off  than  I  am," 
I  said  to  myself.  "  They  are  obliged  to  work  for  their 
living,  and  yet  they  seem  cheerful  and  even  contented  with 
their  lot.  I  have  lost  all  who  were  dear  to  me,  it  is  true, 
and  my  loneliness  saddens  and  discourages  me ;  but  ought 
I  to  yield  to  this  despondency?  Did  I  not  promise  my 
dear  father  to  be  an  honor  to  the  name  he  bequeathed  to 
me?  I  am  an  orphan,  and  poor,  but  I  am  well  and  strong, 
and  no  milksop !  Shall  I  give  up  in  despair  like  a  girl  ? 
No,  that  would  be  cowardly !  " 

And  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  resolved  to  triumph  over  fate. 

One  hope  remained.  Nicholas  Berezoff  had  said  in  his 
letter  that  he  had  entered  me  as  a  pupil  in  Saint- Vladimir 
College.  Might  there  not  still  be  a  chance  of  my 
admission  there,  in  spite  of  my  benefactor's  death?  I 
resolved  to  satisfy  myself  on  this  point. 

A  policeman  told  me  how  to  find  my  way  to  the  college, 
which  was  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  about  twenty  minutes' 
walk  from  the  Berezoff  mansion. 

As  I  approached  it,  I  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  im- 
posing appearance  of  the  immense  granite  structure,  with 
its  long  colonnade  and  lofty  pillars.  Over  the  main  door- 
way was  a  has  relief  depicting  Saint  Vladimir  in  royal 
robes,  with  a  crown  upon  his  head,  surrounded  with  youths 
holding  books  and  philosophical  apparatus  of  divers  kinds. 
Below  it  was  this  inscription  in  Latin :  "  Learning  makes 
all  men  equal;"  and  above,  in  gold  letters,  "Saint- 
Vladimir  Gymnasium." 

As  I  paused  in  front  of  the  building,  one  of  the  doors 
opened,  and  a  crowd  of  young  men  and  boys  came  out. 
It  was  noon,  and  the  morning  recitations  had  ended. 

I    gazed  with  intense  curiosity   at  these    students,    my 


126  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

future  comrades,  —  at  least  I  hoped  so,  —  as  they  filed  out 
of  the  building  and  dispersed  in  different  directions.  They 
all  wore  red,  blue,  or  white  caps,  and  I  judged  that  the 
color  of  the  cap  indicated  the  class  to  which  its  wearer 
belonged,  —  a  supposition  that  was  entirely  correct,  as  I 
soon  learned.  Most  of  them  were  very  neatly  dressed ; 
some  few,  however,  were  plainly,  even  shabbily  clad.  All 
carried  books  under  their  arms. 

The  ponderous  door  closed  again,  and  I  remained 
standing  in  the  same  spot,  undecided  what  course  to 
pursue.  Should  I  venture  to  present  myself  before  the 
president?  Had  I  the  slightest  chance  of  admission?  I 
must  of  course  make  the  attempt ;  but  first  of  all,  I  had 
better  freshen  myself  up  a  little,  if  I  wished  to  make  a 
favorable  impression.  The  dust  of  travel  was  still  thick 
upon  me,  and  my  shoes  were  covered  with  mud.  The 
cleanly  habits  I  had  learned  from  my  father,  who  was 
extremely  fastidious  in  all  such  matters,  made  me  un- 
willing to  appear  before  any  one  in  such  a  plight,  and  the 
best  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  find  some  modest  inn  where 
I  could  get  a  room  and  change  my  clothing. 

In  a  narrow  side  street,  not  far  from  the  college,  I  dis- 
covered a  small  green  house  that  I  thought  would  suit  me, 
as  the  sign-board  bearing  the  words,  "  The  White  Bear," 
which  creaked  dismally  in  front  of  it,  declared  it  to  be  a 
place  of  public  entertainment.  On  entering  I  found  myself 
in  a  low,  dingy  room,  redolent  with  the  fumes  of  liquor  and 
poor  tobacco.  For  an  instant  I  felt  strongly  inclined  to 
beat  a  hasty  retreat ;  but  as  the  accommodations  were  so 
poor  the  rates  must  be  correspondingly  low,  and  cheapness 
was  the  chief  consideration  with  me  now. 

An  extremely  unprepossessing-looking  old  woman  was 


A  CRUEL   DISAPPOINTMENT.  I2/ 

sitting  by  the  window,  knitting,  when  I  entered,  and  several 
men  were  sprawled  out,  asleep,  in  front  of  the  stove. 

"  I  would  like  a  room.     Have  you  any  vacant?  "  I  asked. 

"A  room,  or  a  bed?"  inquired  my  hostess,  glancing 
sharply  at  me  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"A  bed?"  I  repeated,  not  understanding  her  in  the 
least. 

"  Yes,  a  bed  in  a  room  with  seven,  or  eight  others,  or  a 
room  to  yourself?  " 

"  Oh,  a  room  to  myself,  of  course,"  I  exclaimed, 
glancing  at  her  disreputable  looking  guests. 

"  But  will  you  pay  for  it?  " 

"  Of  course,"  I  replied,  displaying  my  five-rouble  gold 
piece. 

"  Very  well ;  come  this  way,  little  father." 

I  followed  her  up  a  dark  and  narrow  staircase  to  a  small 
room  directly  under  the  roof.  The  only  articles  of  furni- 
ture in  it  were  a  dilapidated  bed  and  a  rickety  chair. 

It  was  a  miserable  hole ;  but  it  suited  me,  or  rather  my 
purse,  all  the  better  for  that. 

"  Will  this  do,  little  father?  "  asked  the  old  woman. 

"  If  you  will  sweep  and  dust  it,  and  bring  me  a  bucket 
of  fresh  water  immediately." 

"  It  's  a  nice,  clean  room,"  whined  the  old  woman. 
"  You  won't  find  a  roach  in  it." 

"  I  should  think  not.  It 's  so  cold  that  even  a  warmly 
clad  Christian  can  hardly  keep  alive  here.  It  is  n't  very- 
likely  that  a  roach  would  stay  any  longer  than  it  could 
help,"  I  replied  good  naturedly.  In  the  mean  time,  my 
hostess  had  found  a  broom,  —  or  rather  the  remains  of  one, 
for  there  was  not  much  more  than  the  handle  of  it  left,  — 
and  she  now  proceeded  to  sweep  off  the  cobwebs  and  dirt 


128  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

that  covered  the  tiny  window.  Soon  afterwards,  she 
brought  up  a  big  stone  pitcher  full  of  water,  and  I  pro- 
ceeded to  take  a  bath. 

How  many  times  I  have  felt  grateful  to  my  father  for 
accustoming  me  from  infancy  to  the  cold  baths  which 
are  so  healthful  and  invigorating,  alike  to  mind  and 
body. 

Afterwards,  when  I  found  myself  once  more  arrayed  in 
clean  linen,  neatly  brushed  clothes,  and  brightly  polished 
shoes,  I  felt  like  another  boy;  and  it  was  with  a  much 
lighter  heart  that  I  descended  the  stairway  of  the  White 
Bear. 

I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  lock  the  door  of  my  room 
and  put  the  key  in  my  pocket,  for  I  felt  sure  that  the  old 
woman  would  examine  my  belongings  during  my  absence, 
if  it  was  in  her  power  to  do  it. 

"Won't  you  have  something  to  eat  now?"  she  asked, 
seeing  that  I  was  about  to  go  out. 

"  No,  not  until  evening." 

"  You  Ve  left  your  valise,  so  you  '11  be  sure  to  come 
back,  I  suppose,  little  father?" 

"  You  need  have  no  anxiety  about  that,"  I  replied,  con- 
gratulating myself  upon  the  precaution  I  had  taken. 

And  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  I  again  found  myself 
standing  in  front  of  Saint-Vladimir  College. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
+ 

HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS   IN  A   STRANGE  CITY. 

HAVING  become  a  little  accustomed  to  the  edifice,  it 
seemed  less    imposing  when  I   beheld  it  a  second 
time,  and  I  walked  boldly  up  to  the  north  door  and  rang 
the  bell. 

A  man  in  uniform,  with  brass  buttons  bearing  the  college 
device,  promptly  appeared. 

"I  would  like  to  see  the  superintendent,"  I  said 
deferentially. 

"  Right  corridor,  stairway  to  the  left,  second  story,  first 
door,"  was  the  janitor's  rather  surly  reply. 

I  obeyed  his  instructions ;  and  soon  found  myself  in  the 
presence  of  a  clerk,  who  immediately  motioned  me  to  a 
second  clerk,  who  in  turn  handed  me  over  to  a  third 
functionary,  a  very  elegant  young  gentleman,  who  seemed 
to  be  chiefly  engrossed  in  keeping  a  glass  in  his  right  eye, 
but  who  finally  condescended  to  ask  my  name. 

"  Dmitri  Fedorovitch  T6rentieff,  the  pupil  entered  by 
Nicholas  Ivanovitch  Berezoff,"  I  answered. 

The  young  man's  only  response  was  a  frightful  grimace, 
the  real  object  of  which  was  the  retention  of  the  refractory 
eyeglass  in  its  proper  place ;  then  he  disappeared  behind 
a  baize-covered  door. 

9 


130  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Dmitri  Fedorovitch.  The  superin- 
tendent will  soon  be  at  liberty,"  he  said  to  me,  on  his  return 
a  few  minutes  afterward. 

My  heart  throbbed  wildly  as  I  seated  myself  upon  a 
cushioned  bench.  What  would  the  president's  decision 
be?  Was  it  at  all  likely  that  he  would  admit  into  the  in- 
stitution a  homeless,  friendless,  penniless  boy,  a  stranger 
in  the  city?  But  if  he  refused,  what  would  become 
of  me? 

I  was  startled  by  the  sharp  peal  of  an  electric  bell 
near  me. 

"  Pass  in,  Dmitri  Fedorovitch,"  said  the  young  man, 
who  was  now  engaged  in  admiring  himself  in  a  small 
pocket-mirror;  "the  president  is  waiting  for  you." 

I  pushed  open  the  baize-door,  and  found  myself  in  a 
large,  bare,  and  cheerless  room.  An  immense  desk  cov- 
ered with  books,  pamphlets,  and  paper  formed  a  sort  of 
oasis  in  the  middle  of  this  desert ;  and  almost  hidden  from 
sight  behind  the  huge  piles  of  books,  sat  a  small,  bald- 
headed,  elderly  gentleman.  On  hearing  me  enter,  he  raised 
his  head,  disclosing  to  view  a  kindly,  honest,  smoothly 
shaven  face,  and  took  a  quick  look  at  me  over  the  tops  of 
his  gold-bowed  spectacles ;  but  I  had  barely  time  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  features  before  he  resumed  his  writing,  so 
rapid  was  his  glance. 

I  stood  there,  the  picture  of  embarrassment.  Ought 
I  to  address  him,  seat  myself,  be  silent,  or  remain  stand- 
ing? It  seemed  to  me  that  the  best  thing  for  me  to  do 
was  to  wait  until  the  president  saw  fit  to  speak  to  me, 
and  I  did  so. 

He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  my  presence,  and  his  pen 
flew  swiftly  over  the  paper  as  he  wrote  on  and  on.  The 


HOMELESS  AMD  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.       131 

ticking  of  the  clock  that  hung  on  the  wall  between  a  ther- 
mometer and  barometer,  was  the  only  sound  that  broke 
the  stillness ;  the  minute  hand  had  nearly  completed  its 
round,  and  still  I  stood  there  motionless,  scarcely  daring 
to  breathe,  perched  like  a  stork  first  upon  one  foot,  then 
upon  the  other,  and  twirling  my  cap  in  my  hands. 

Suddenly  I  felt  an  ominous  tickling  in  my  nostrils, 
probably  the  result  of  my  long  revery  on  the  snowbank 
by  the  river-side,  and  before  I  could  repress  it,  a  loud 
•"  atchi !  "  resounded  through  the  room ;  then  another, 
and  another,  and  another.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  should 
never  stop.  Deeply  mortified,  I  glanced  at  the  superin- 
tendent, and  found  that  he  was  surveying  me  over  the  tops 
of  his  spectacles  with  an  air  of  profound  astonishment. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  What  is  your  name?  "  he 
asked  abruptly. 

I  was  so  unprepared  for  this  question  that  I  could  make 
no  coherent  response. 

"  Eh,  what?     What  do  you  say ?  " 

"But,  sir  —  " 

i 

"  Ivan  Alexandrovitch  Perevsky  is  my  name." 

"  I  have  come,  Ivan  Alexandrovitch,  to  ask  you  to 
kindly  admit  me  as  a  pupil,"  I  faltered,  summoning  up  all 
my  courage. 

"Where  is  your  father?  Why  didn't  he  come  with 
you?" 

"  I  have  lost  my  father." 

"  Your  mother,  then?" 

"  She  is  dead." 

"Your  guardian?" 

"  I  have  none." 

"  Then  your  uncle   or   aunt,  or  your  grandparents,  or 


132  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

somebody?  "  said  the  superintendent,  a  little  impatiently, 
glancing  at  his  papers  as  if  he  longed  to  return  to  them 
again ;  and  yet  his  manner  was  really  so  kind  in  spite  of  its 
brusqueness,  that  I  conceived  a  real  affection  for  him  then 
and  there. 

"  I  have  no  relatives.  There  is  no  one  who  takes  any 
interest  in  me,"  I  said  in  reply  to  his  last  question. 

The  president  looked  at  me  searchingly  for  a  moment. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  receive  pupils  without  any 
references  ?  "  he  asked,  at  last. 

"  My  name  was  sent  in." 

"By  whom?" 

"  By  Nicholas  Ivanovitch  Bere"zoff,  a  friend  of  my 
father." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  say  so  before?     Your  name?  " 

"  Dmitri  Fe"dorovitch  Terentieff." 

The  president  pressed  the  knob  of  an  electric  bell.  A 
gentleman  about  fifty  years  old,  very  tall  and  imposing  in 
appearance,  entered  immediately.  It  was  M.  Bare"  vine,  the 
assistant  superintendent,  as  I  learned  shortly  afterwards. 

"  Paul  Petrovitch,  here  is  a  new  pupil,  Dmitri  Fedoro- 
vitch  T6rentieff,  entered  by  Nicholas  Ivanovitch  Bere'zoff. 
Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  see  if  everything  is  all  right?  " 

And  the  president,  without  another  word,  resumed  his 
writing,  while  I  followed  Paul  P6trovitch  into  an  adjoining 
room. 

There  he  consulted  an  official  register  and  read  aloud 
the  following  entry :  - 

"  Dmitri  Fedorovitch  Terentieff,  entered  by  Nicholas  Ivanovitch 
Be"rezoff,  a  resident  of  Moscow,  —  born  in  Sitovka,  aged  fourteen 
years.  Tuition  paid  one  year  in  advance." 


HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.       133 

The  assistant  superintendent  asked  me  no  questions, 
and  I  thought  it  useless  to  tell  him  that  I  was  entirely 
without  resources.  It  was  an  immense  relief  to  find  that 
my  tuition  was  paid  for  one  year  in  advance.  Before  that 
period  had  elapsed,  I  must  devise  some  means  for  the 
continuance  of  my  studies. 

"  Your  papers  are  all  right,"  remarked  Paul  Petrovitch, 
"  and  from  this  time  you  may  consider  yourself  one  of  the 
pupils  of  the  Saint-Vladimir  Gymnasium." 

I  asked  him  when  I  should  begin  my  studies. 

"  Immediately,"  was  the  reply.  "  One  of  the  recitations 
of  your  class  will  begin  in  a  few  minutes,  and  you  would 
better  attend  it.  There  are  three  classes  in  the  college: 
the  third,  second,  and  first  classes,  each  of  which  is  divided 
into  two  sections.  The  prescribed  course  of  study  for  each 
class  lasts  two  years.  The  classification  is  as  follows :  — 

Third  Class,  2d  section,  age  of  pupils  12  to  13  years. 

"          "  ist      "  "         "       13  to  14     " 

Second    "  2d       "  "         "       14  to  15     " 

"  ist      "  "         "       15  to  16     " 

First        "  2d       "  "         "       1 6  to  17     " 

"         "  ist      "  "         "       17  to  18     " 

"  Your  age  places  you  in  the  first  section  of  the  Third 
Class.  You  must  try  to  keep  there.  Your  section  has  a 
French  theme  and  an  exercise  for  translation  this  after- 
noon, and  you  will  have  a  chance  to  see  how  you  stand  in 
this  study,  which  holds  a  very  important  place  in  our 
curriculum." 

Paul  P6trovitch  then  took  me  to  the  class-room  reserved 
for  the  first  section  of  the  Third  Class,  stopping  on  the  way 
at  the  office  of  the  bursar,  who  supplied  me  with  pencils, 


134  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN    RUSSIA. 

pens,  and  note-books,  as  well  as  a  program  of  the  course 
of  study.  I  examined  this  last  in  the  brief  interval  before 
the  commencement  of  the  recitation,  and  was  appalled  at 
the  number  of  studies  I  was  expected  to  pursue  before 
that  most  terrible  of  ordeals,  —  the  final  examination ! 
Russian,  Latin,  Greek,  French,  German,  literature,  religion, 
sacred  history,  the  history  of  Russia,  natural  history,  phy- 
sics, chemistry,  mathematics,  the  differential  and  integral 
calculus,  —  all  these  subjects  danced  about  before  my  eyes 
in  the  wildest  confusion.  Should  I  ever  succeed  in  mas- 
tering them?  Then  I  turned  the  leaf  to  see  the  list  of 
classical  authors  I  should  be  obliged  to  read :  Tacitus, 
Virgil,  Herodotus,  Homer,  Sophocles,  Montaigne,  Cor- 
neille,  Racine,  Moliere,  Voltaire,  Goethe,  Herder,  Schiller, 
—  how  formidable  they  appeared,  grouped  within  the 
horizon  of  a  five  years'  course  of  study ! 

The  sharp  tap  of  a  ruler  upon  the  master's  desk  drew 
my  attention  from  future  trials  to  those  of  the  present 
time. 

This  was  no  dream.  I  was  really  a  student  of  Saint- 
Vladimir  College.  I  was  sitting  in  a  spacious  class-room, 
lighted  by  a  long  mullioned  window ;  and  surrounding  me 
on  every  side  I  saw  thirty-five  or  forty  boys  of  my  own 
age,  who  had  hung  their  red  caps  on  hooks  ranged  along 
the  wall  for  that  purpose. 

So  red  was  the  Third  Class  color,  as  blue  was  that  of 
the  Second  Class,  and  white  that  of  the  First  Class. 

In  spite  of  my  efforts  to  give  my  undivided  attention  to 
the  professor,  one  question  would  persist  in  forcing  itself 
upon  my  mind.  How  was  I  to  procure  the  red  cap  which 
seemed  to  be  an  essential?  Was  this  head  covering  so 
exorbitant  in  price  as  to  be  entirely  beyond  my  reach? 


HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.      135 

Should  I  be  any  less  a  student  of  Saint- Vladimir  if  I  was 
unable  to  purchase  this  article  of  dress?  During  my 
wanderings  that  morning,  I  had  seen  several  large  hat 
stores  on  such  fashionable  thoroughfares  as  the  P6trovka, 
the  Loubjanka,  and  Gasetnyi.  Were  the  caps  purchased 
there  or  at  the  college  ?  A  sudden  and  profound  silence  put 
an  abrupt  end  to  my  reflections  upon  this  important  subject. 

"  Young  gentlemen,"  began  the  professor  in  French, 
"  I  will  now  give  you  a  passage  for  translation." 

"  How  lucky  it  is  for  me  that  I  have  French  first !  "  I 
said  to  myself.  "  It  is  almost  the  only  modern  language 
I  know  anything  about." 

How  glad  I  felt  now  that  my  father  had  insisted  upon 
the  daily  use  of  this  refined  and  euphonious  language  in 
our  little  household !  And  what  a  sigh  of  relief  I  gave, 
as  I  thought  of  the  French  fables,  as  amusing  as  those  of 
our  own  Yvan  Krilof,1  that  Sacha  and  I  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  recite  to  my  father  every  evening !  The  hope 
of  covering  myself  with  glory  took  possession  of  me  as  I 
began  to  write  the  required  translation.  It  proved  to  be 
a  page  from  Moliere  that  the  professor  had  chosen,  the 
speech  of  Master  Jacques  in  the  "  Miser,"  beginning,  — 

"  Monsieur,  puisque  vous  le  voulez,  je  vous  dirai  franchement 
qu'on  se  moque  partout  de  vous,  qu'on  nous  jette  de  tous  cotes 
cents  brocards,  etc." 

And  I  had  fancied  myself  proficient  in  French!  It 
did  not  take  me  two  minutes  to  discover  that  this  trans- 
lation was  going  to  be  no  easy  matter.  I  was  obliged  to 
make  it  without  a  dictionary  of  any  kind,  and  what  did 
such  expressions  as  brocards,  tisine,  la  fable,  and  la  riste, 

a.The  Russian  La  Fontaine. 


136  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

ladre,  and  mlaine  mean?  I  had  never  heard  these  words 
in  ordinary  conversation,  and  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea 
of  their  meaning;  and  though  there  were  many  phrases 
that  I  did  understand  tolerably  well,  I  found  it  impossible 
to  translate  them  in  any  but  the  most  awkward  and 
blundering  manner. 

I  hoped  to  appear  to  a  little  better  advantage  in  the 
theme.  We  had  a  selection  from  Gogol's  "  Sorcerer  "  to 
put  into  French,  and  when  I  read  my  version  it  seemed 
quite  satisfactory. 

After  the  dictation  was  ended,  a  profound  silence  reigned 
in  the  class-room  until  four  o'clock, — the  stillness  being 
broken  only  by  the  scratching  of  pens  and  an  occasional 
sigh  of  discouragement  when  one  of  the  students  found  his 
task  too  much  for  him. 

M.  Lapenelle,  the  professor  of  French,  was,  as  I  subse- 
quently learned,  a  Parisian  who  had  resided  in  Moscow 
nearly  thirty  years,  and  who  had  initiated  hundreds  of 
young  Russians  into  the  mysteries  of  his  mother-tongue. 

Unconsciously  relapsing  into  that  state  of  abstraction 
that  is  my  besetting  sin,  I  had  sat  for  some  time  nibbling 
the  end  of  my  penholder,  and  absently  gazing  at  the  tight- 
fitting  surtout  and  still  youthful  face  of  our  instructor, 
when  he  glanced  up  at  the  clock  hanging  on  the  wall,  and 
said,  — 

"  You  have  only  five  minutes  more,  young  gentlemen." 

And  my  theme  was  still  uncopied,  —  scarcely  reread,  in 
fact !  I  was  obliged  to  hand  in  my  scrawl  just  as  it  was, 
erasures,  blunders,  and  all ;  and  I  cast  an  envious  glance  at 
my  next  neighbor,  who  had  just  completed  an  irreproach- 
able copy  with  a  magnificent  flourish-  enclosing  the  sig- 
nature,—  Serge  A.  Kratkine. 


HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.      137 

This  elaborate  signature  gave  me  an  exalted  idea  of  my 
neighbor's  talent,  and  I  blushed  deeply  when — M.  Lap- 
enelle  having  left  the  room  —  Kratkine  addressed  me  with 
a  rather  condescending  air  as  he  neatly  arranged  his  note- 
books in  a  morocco  portfolio. 

"  You  are  a  new  scholar,  are  you  not?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  What  is  your  name?  " 

I  told  him ;  whereupon  he  informed  me  that  his  father, 
Arcade  Nicolaievitch,  bore  the  title  of  Councillor;  that  is 
to  say,  he  belonged  to  the  sixth  grade  of  nobility.  Seeing 
that  this  announcement  made  no  impression  on  me,  —  the 
fact  is,  I  had  never  heard  anything  about  these  different 
grades  in  Sitovka,  my  father  having  entirely  neglected  to 
instruct  me  in  regard  to  the  tsin,  or  civil  nobility,  of  our 
country,  —  Serge  was  kind  enough  to  explain  the  laws  that 
govern  it.  I  thus  learned  that  any  Russian  may  elevate 
himself  to  the  rank  of  a  nobleman  by  his  own  exertions ; 
in  fact,  that  it  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  as  one  was 
merely  obliged  to  pass  a  certain  number  of  examinations 
to  accomplish  it. 

"  Ordeals,  I  suppose  you  mean,"  I  replied,  thinking  of 
those  to  which  the  candidates  for  knighthood  had  been 
subjected  in  mediaeval  times. 

"  No  ;  examinations,  I  tell  you.  There  is  my  father,  for 
instance.  True,  he  was  not  a  moujik;  but  since  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  serf  even  a  moujik  may  elevate  himself  to 
the  rank  of  a  nobleman.  My  father  was  the  son  of  the 
sacristan  of  the  church  of  Wassili  Blaujeuni.  You  know 
the  church.  It  is  near  the  Kremlin." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  he  is  a  nobleman  now,  and  to  make  himself  one, 


138  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

he  has  only  been  obliged  to  serve  the  State  in  a  civil  capa- 
city, and  pass  the  stipulated  examinations." 

"  Your  father  has  passed  six  examinations !  "  I  cried, 
appalled  at  the  thought  of  the  many  trying  ordeals  before 
me  if  I,  too,  desired  to  rise  in  the  world. 

"  Twice  that  number,  counting  those  at  the  college  and 
University,"  replied  my  new  friend ;  "  and  he  has  n't  fin- 
ished with  them  yet,  for  he  has  only  reached  the  sixth 
grade.  The  title  does  not  become  hereditary  until  one 
reaches  the  eighth  grade ;  and  as  my  father,  who  possesses 
no  private  fortune,  wishes  me  to  profit  by  what  he  has 
achieved,  he  will  go  on  with  the  examinations;  but  if 
from  any  cause  he  should  be  obliged  to  stop  before  he 
has  reached  the  eighth  grade,  I  shall  be  under  the  neces- 
sity of  beginning  again  from  the  very  beginning." 

The  thought  of  such  marvellous  perseverance  astonished 
me.  Should  I,  too,  be  obliged  to  pass  a  dozen  or  more 
examinations  when  I  shuddered  at  the  mere  mention  of 
the  one  that  awaited  me  on  leaving  college? 

We  had  left  the  class-room,  and  as  Serge  put  on  his  cap 
in  the  corridor  he  remarked,  — 

"  You  have  n't  your  cap  yet,  I  see.  Had  n't  you  better 
go  and  get  it  now?" 

"Where?" 

"  At  the  bursar's  office.     I  '11  show  you  the  way." 

Deeply  grateful  to  my  new  friend,  I  followed  him, 
though  not  without  some  misgivings  as  to  the  probable 
cost  of  the  famous  cap. 

In  the  bursar's  office  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  the 
same  clerk  who  had  furnished  me  with  my  exercise-books. 

"  You  have  come  for  your  cap,  I  suppose,"  he  remarked. 
"  Try  some  on,  and  take  any  one  that  fits  you." 


V 

HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.       139 

I  soon  made  my  selection ;  then  I  ventured,  timidly,  — 

"  Is  there  anything  —  what  is  there  to  pay,  sir?  " 

"Nothing.  The  gentleman  who  entered  you  paid  for 
everything  in  advance.  Your  books  will  be  given  to  you 
to-morrow.  They,  too,  are  paid  for." 

I  left  the  room  with  a  much  lighter  heart,  secretly 
heaping  blessings  upon  the  head  of  good  Nicholas 
Berezoff. 

Serge  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  door. 

"  Ah,  ha !  you  are  really  one  of  us  now !  "  he  exclaimed, 
seeing  me  reappear.  "  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  you 
from  availing  yourself  of  all  our  privileges  now." 

"  What  privileges?  " 

"  Oh,  we  have  a  good  many,  I  assure  you.  In  the  first 
place,  we  pay  only  one-fourth  of  the  regular  rates  at  the 
theatre  when  we  wear  our  caps.  Then,  the  merchants  all 
make  a  reduction  when  they  sell  to  us,  and  we  are  admitted 
free  to  all  the  galleries  and  museums." 

We  had  left  the  building,  and  as  we  discovered  that  we 
were  living  in  the  same  part  of  the  town,  we  continued  to 
walk  along  together. 

Serge  Arcadievitch,  who  was  certainly  very  communica- 
tive, told  me  a  great  deal  about  himself,  his  family,  his 
tastes,  and  his  opinions  in  regard  to  matters  and  things  in 
general.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  an  exceedingly 
sensible  and  practical  fellow,  whose  ideas  were  as  well 
regulated  and  orderly  as  the  lines  I  had  seen  traced  in  his 
exercise-book.  Roving  fancies  and  idle  dreams  were  un- 
known to  him;  good  sense,  frankness,  and  integrity  were 
evidently  his  chief  characteristics.  I  took  a  great  liking  to 
him  at  once,  and  sincerely  congratulated  myself  upon 
having  had  him  for  a  neighbor. 


140  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

From  him,  too,  I  learned  many  of  the  rules  and  regula- 
tions that  were  to  govern  my  new  life.  "  Recitations  be- 
gan," he  said,  "  at  seven  o'clock  in  summer  and  eight  in 
winter.  The  morning  session  closed  at  eleven  o'clock  in 
summer  and  twelve  in  winter.  During  the  morning  session 
there  was  a  recreation  period  of  half  an  hour,  when  stu- 
dents could  eat  the  lunch  they  brought  in  the  morning,  if 
they  chose.  At  noon,  they  all  went  home  to  dinner, 
though  some  of  the  boys,  whose  parents  resided  in  the 
suburbs  or  at  too  great  a  distance  in  the  city,  took  their 
meals  at  some  of  the  boarding-houses  kept  especially 
for  students." 

"  Is  the  board  very  dear?  "  I  inquired. 

"  It  varies.  Down  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  where  you 
see  that  blue  sign,  you  can  get  a  dinner  or  supper  for 
fifteen  or  twenty  kopecks,  —  at  least  so  Grichine  Y6gov 
tells  me." 

"  I  ask  because  I  am  far  from  rich,  and  must  arrange  to 
take  my  meals  at  some  cheap  place.  Is  it  there  that  your 
friend  Y^gov  boards  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  he  has  the  money,  poor  fellow !  That  is  not 
the  case  every  day,  however." 

"  And  when  he  has  no  money  what  does  he  do  ? "  I 
asked,  with  some  very  natural  curiosity,  as  Grichine  Yegov's 
situation  so  thoroughly  resembled  mine. 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  never  asked  him  ;  but  I  Ve  heard  the 
boys  say  that  he  has  been  seen  to  slip  up  to  the  bread- 
basket more  than  once  at  recess." 

"  And  what  is  the  bread-basket,  pray?" 

"  It  hangs  on  the  wall  in  the  courtyard.  When  we  have 
finished  eating,  we  put  any  scraps  of  food  we  may  have  left 
into  this  basket.  Any  student  who  throws  food  on  the 


HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.       141 

ground  is  punished  with  an  extra  lesson.  Every  one  is 
obliged  to  put  the  remains  of  his  lunch  in  the  basket,  and 
the  contents  are  given  to  the  poor.  It  is  said  that  Grichine 
often  hangs  around  the  basket  in  order  to  snatch  out  a 
piece  of  bread  when  no  one  is  looking.  It  is  true,  perhaps  ; 
but  I  always  feel  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  laugh  about  it. 
It  is  not  his  fault  that  he  is  poor." 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  responded,  much  more  warmly  than  I 
might  have  done  if  I  myself  had  been  rolling  in  gold,  as 
the  saying  is. 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  point  where  our  paths 
diverged,  so,  after  exchanging  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand 
with  my  new  friend,  I  directed  my  steps  toward  my 
dreary  lodgings. 

Still  greatly  fatigued  from  my  long  journey,  as  well  as 
from  the  many  exciting  events  of  the  long  day,  I  intended 
to  go  straight  to  bed  without  any  supper  except  the 
tiny  loaf  of  bread  I  purchased  before  entering  the  house ; 
but  the  old  woman  waylaid  me  as  I  passed. 

"  Have  some  supper,  little  father,  have  some  supper," 
she  exclaimed.  "  See  the  nice  tchi1  and  hot  racha*  I  Ve 
got  for  you." 

I  wanted  to  refuse,  though  solely  from  motives  of 
economy,  for  I  was  very  hungry,  and  longed  for  a  plate  of 
the  soup  that  was  smoking  on  the  table ;  but  pride  forbade 
in  the  presence  of  the  moujiks  seated  there.  I  feared  if  I 
refused  to  dine  that  they  would  think  it  was  for  want  of 
money, —  which  would  have  been  the  plain  truth;  and 
actuated  by  this  laudable  reason,  I  took  my  seat  among 
them. 

I  soon  despatched  the  soup,  though  it  consisted  princi- 

1  Cabbage  soup.  2  Buckwheat  porridge. 


142  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

pally  of  greasy  water ;  but  the  porridge  proved  too  much 
for  me  in  spite  of  my  long  fast,  —  it  reminded  me  too  forci- 
bly of  a  lukewarm  poultice,  —  and  I  soon  arose  to  leave 
the  table. 

"  Wait,  you  must  be  thirsty,  too.  Stop  and  have  a  glass 
of  kvass."  1 

"  I  don't  wish  any,  thank  you."  I  had  never  taken  a 
glass  of  liquor  in  my  life,  and  I  had  no  desire  to  do  so 
now;  but  the  men  who  were  at  the  table  began  to  laugh 
boisterously. 

"  This  fine  little  gentleman  must  be  afraid  of  burning  his 
throat,"  sneered  one. 

"  I  believe  it's  a  girl  in  disguise,"  remarked  another. 

"  No,  he  's  going  to  dine  with  the  czar  this  evening,  so 
he's  saving  up  for  it." 

Blushing  deeply  with  rage  and  mortification,  I  took  the 
dirty  glass  the  old  woman  was  holding  out,  and  swallowed 
the  vile  stuff  at  a  single  draught,  though  it  seemed  to  set 
my  throat  on  fire. 

"  Ah,  ha !  look  at  the  face  he  makes  !  " 

"  Poor  little  thing,  we  '11  have  to  give  him  his  bottle. 
Where  is  his  nurse?"  asked  one  moujik. 

Exasperated  beyond  endurance  by  these  taunts,  I  re- 
solved to  show  these  men  that  I  was  no  child ;  so  pound- 
ing upon  the  table  with  my  fist,  I  called  out  to  the  old 
woman,  — 

"  This  brandy  is  splendid.     Give  me  another  glass !  " 

A  burst  of  applause  greeted  this  absurd  act  of  bravado, 
and  thus  encouraged,  I  resolved  to  persist  in  the  noble 
course  I  had  seen  fit  to  adopt;  so  I  emptied  the  second 

1  Brandy. 


DMITRI  S   EXPERIENCE   AT   HIS    LODGING-HOUSE. 


HOMELESS  AND  FRIENDLESS  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY.       145 

glass,  though  it  made  the  tears  rise  to  my  eyes,  and  it  was 
in  a  husky  voice  that  I  cried,  — 

"  Another  glass,  mother ;  and  one  for  each  of  these 
gentlemen,  please.  I  '11  pay  the  bill.  To  your  good 
health,  my  —  " 

But  I  could  not  finish  the  sentence.  My  knees  gave 
way  under  me,  my  head  swam  wildly.  The  suffocating 
atmosphere  of  the  room,  the  strong  odor  of  tobacco 
smoke,  the  nauseating  taste  of  the  vile  food  I  had  just 
eaten,  the  fumes  of  alcohol  which  were  fast  mounting  to  my 
brain,  the  intense  shame  created  by  my  folly,  —  all  com- 
bined to  make  me  unspeakably  wretched  and  ill. 

"  Air,  air,  I  must  have  air !  "  I  said  to  myself;  and 
spilling  the  entire  contents  of  my  third  glass  on  the  table 
as  I  rose  with  the  others,  I  started  for  the  staircase  leading 
to  my  garret. 

I  must  have  described  several  zig-zags  during  the  short 
journey,  for  I  lurched  against  a  small  table  loaded  with 
dishes ;  and  a  pile  of  plates  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  crash 
amid  the  uproarious  laughter  of  the  spectators,  whose 
mirth  was  excited  to  the  highest  pitch  by  this  last  exploit 
on  my  part. 

Intoxicated  with  rage  —  but  why  do  I  use  that  expres- 
sion? Was  I  not,  alas!  intoxicated  before,  and  not  with 
rage  alone  ?  —  I  aimed  a  blow  at  my  tormentors ;  but  my 
arm,  which  was  usually  so  strong  and  agile,  seemed  to  be 
made  of  lead,  and  dropped  heavily  at  my  side.  I  stag- 
gered violently,  and  would  have  fallen  if  I  had  not  clutched 
at  the  wall  for  support. 

The  shouts  of  laughter  grew  even  more  boisterous. 
Enraged,  humiliated,  sick  at  heart,  I  finally  succeeded 
in  climbing  the  stairs  and  reaching  my  room,  where 

10 


146  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I   threw   myself  upon    the    bed   without    removing    my 
clothes. 

Oh,  if  my  father  had  seen  me  at  that  moment !  Tears 
of  shame  and  remorse  streamed  down  upon  my  miserable 
pillow  at  the  thought  of  my  disgrace;  but  fortunately  I 
soon  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  X. 

NEW    FACES. 

AFTER  several  hours  of  heavy  slumber,  I  woke  with 
wildly  throbbing  temples,  head  on  fire,  and  throat 
parched  with  thirst.  I  felt  weak  and  miserable  in  mind, 
as  well  as  body ;  but  the  hardest  thing  of  all  to  bear  was 
my  intense  shame  at  having  behaved  myself  in  such  a 
disgraceful  manner.  I  —  the  son  of  Fedor  Te"  rentieff,  who 
had  reared  me  with  such  care  and  solicitude,  and  who  had 
been  a  living  example  of  sobriety,  moderation,  and  dignity 
in  every  act  of  his  life  —  I  had  been  intoxicated,  I  had 
voluntarily  obscured  in  my  soul  the  divine  spark  of  reason 
which  alone  distinguishes  us  from  the  brutes ! 

Oh,  how  unspeakably  wretched  I  was  !  I  almost  wished 
that  the  earth  would  open  and  swallow  me  up.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  my  disgraceful  conduct  had  left  its  impress  on 
my  face,  and  that  every  one  would  see  it  on  the  morrow. 
As  I  reviewed  each  detail  of  this  most  unfortunate  affair,  I 
saw  that  I  had  been  guilty  of  that  contemptible  spirit  of 
bravado  which  I  so  bitterly  despised  in  others. 

I  tossed  about,  unable  to  sleep,  and  at  last,  toward 
morning,  after  having  spent  the  most  wretched  night  of 
my  life  —  for  never  before  had  I  been  kept  awake  by  the 
stings  of  conscience  —  I  made  a  solemn  vow  which  helped 
to  assuage  my  regret. 


148  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

As  I  had  allowed  myself  to  be  surprised  and  worsted  by 
an  enemy  so  despicable  as  intemperance,  I  would  never 
touch  a  drop  of  ardent  spirits  again !  This  vow  I  have 
faithfully  kept.  Never  again  shall  my  father's  son  have  to 
blush  for  so  degrading  himself. 

Had  I  known  at  the  time  the  ingredients  employed  in 
the  manufacture  of  the  liquors  sold  in  our  low  taverns  and 
saloons,  that  knowledge  would  have  more  than  sufficed  to 
deter  me  from  tasting  them.  Russian  brandy  is  of  a  very 
inferior  quality  at  best.  The  distillers  add  a  great  deal 
of  water  to  it  to  increase  their  profits ;  but  far  from 
rendering  it  less  dangerous  in  its  effect,  they  impart  an 
unnatural  strength  to  it  by  means  of  a  mixture  of  the  most 
heterogeneous  articles,  such  as  pepper,  copperas,  tobacco 
leaves,  nitric  acid,  and  even  vitriol.  And  I  had  swallowed 
this  vile  compound  out  of  pure  bravado,  or  rather  from  a 
cowardly  fear  of  the  taunts  of  a  few  disreputable  loafers ! 
I  blush  now  when  I  think  of  it. 

When  morning  came  I  got  up,  though  not  without  con- 
siderable difficulty,  for  I  felt  very  weak,  and  my  head  still 
ached  frightfully;  but  I  plunged  my  head  into  ice-cold 
water  again  and  again,  and  this  relieved  the  pain  in  a 
measure.  So  after  my  bath,  I  went  downstairs  feeling 
better  mentally  as  well  as  physically. 

My  hostess  was  already  moving  about  in  the  dingy 
room  below,  which  was  still  full  of  tobacco  smoke,  while 
the  men  sleeping  around  the  stove  presented  a  repulsive 
spectacle  of  intoxication  and  brutishness. 

"  Well,  little  father,  may  I  offer  you  a  drop  of  kvass  this 
morning?"  asked  the  old  hag,  with  a  smile  that  disclosed 
her  toothless  gums  in  a  most  ghastly  way. 

Though  I  blushed  a  little  at  the  allusion,  I  responded 
in  my  most  dignified  manner,  — 


NEW  FACES.  149 

"  I  want  nothing,  thank  you.  Will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  make  out  my  bill  ?  I  intend  to  leave  at  noon." 

And  without  stopping  to  listen  to  her  eager  protests,  I 
hastened  to  the  Gymnasium. 

The  clock  was  striking  eight  when  I  reached  the  door, 
where  I  found  Serge  Kratkine  waiting  for  me. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  coming,"  he  remarked.  "  They 
are  great  sticklers  for  punctuality  here.  A  student  who  is 
tardy  three  times  in  one  term  is  expelled.  I  advise  you  to 
come  early.  It  is  the  only  way  one  can  be  sure  of  being 
on  time." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  hard  to  be  exactly  on  time,  —  neither 
too  early  nor  too  late,"  I  replied. 

"And  for  that  very  reason,  instead  of  saying  to  myself, 
4  Recitations  begin  at  eight  o'clock,'  I  say,  '  Recitations 
begin  at  ten  minutes  of  eight;  '  and  in  that  way  I  always 
manage  to  be  on  hand." 

I  could  see  the  importance  of  my  new  friend's  warning, 
for  the  doorkeeper  was  already  at  his  post,  impatiently 
jingling  his  keys.  I  soon  learned  that  he  showed  tardy 
students  no  mercy ;  it  was  even  said  that  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  set  the  hands  of  the  college  clock  a  few  minutes 
ahead  in  order  that  he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  shutting 
the  door  in  the  faces  of  unfortunate  youths  who  deluded 
themselves  with  the  idea  that  they  had  plenty  of  time, 
and  consequently  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance  until  the 
very  last  minute. 

I  learned,  too,  that  Gavruchka  —  for  that  was  the  jani- 
tor's name  —  had  a  very  irritable  disposition,  and  that 
there  had  been  open  war  between  him  and  the  boys  from 
time  immemorial.  The  small  children  of  the  neighbor- 
hood regarded  him  as  a  positive  ogre,  and  the  older 


150  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

gamins  were  continually  playing  jokes  on  him,  —  thus 
keeping  him  in  a  furious  passion.  One  of  their  favorite 
tricks  consisted  in  ringing  his  bell,  and  then  hiding;  and 
when  the  janitor  came  out  and  saw  no  one,  he  invariably 
re-entered  the  lodge  in  a  towering  rage,  to  the  intense 
delight  of  the  culprits.  They  wrote,  too,  all  sorts  of  in- 
sulting epithets  on  the  wall,  such  as,  "  Gavruchka,  the  mad 
man ;  Gavruchka,  the  old  tippler ;  Gavruchka,  the  old  beer 
barrel,"  etc. ;  and  one  day  they  even  went  so  far  as  to 
tie  a  live  cat  to  the  bell-knob. 

Consequently,  he  held  all  boys,  great  and  small,  in  holy 
horror ;  and  nothing  pleased  him  better  than  to  detect  one 
of  them  in  a  fault.  He  was  a  tall  and  exceedingly  cor- 
pulent man,  with  a  surly  face  of  a  suspiciously  florid  hue. 
He  had  served  in  the  Crimean  war,  and  it  was  currently 
reported^  that  he  had  gobbled  up  a  Frenchman  and  an 
Englishman  at  a  single  mouthful  at  Sebastopol,  and  that 
it  was  their  brass  buttons  that  had  spoiled  his  digestion, 
and  at  the  same  time  soured  his  disposition. 

We  entered  the  class-room,  where  all  the  pupils  de- 
posited their  books  on  their  desks  while  awaiting  the  en- 
trance of  the  professor.  Most  of  the  students  were  talking 
together  in  subdued  tones.  There  was  no  surveillance  of 
any  kind. 

"Why  was  I  given  a  seat  in  the  front  row  near  you, 
yesterday?"  I  inquired  of  Serge.  "I  should  think  a  new 
pupil  would  be  placed  at  the  foot  of  the  class,  and  be 
compelled  to  make  his  way  up." 

"  Oh,  good  students  are  not  distinguished  from  poor 
students  by  the  places  they  occupy  in  the  class-room. 
I  have  a  seat  in  the  front  row  merely  because  I  am  near- 
sighted, and  cannot  see  the  blackboard  and  maps  any- 


NEW  FACES.  151 

where  else.  All  who  have  seats  in  this  row  are  troubled 
in  the  same  way  that  I  am.  Directly  behind  us  sit  the 
students  whose  vision  is  less  defective,  while  the  far-sighted 
pupils  have  seats  at  the  other  end  of  the  room." 

"  But  I  am  not  near-sighted,  so  why  was  I  placed  here?" 

"  Because  your  eyes  have  not  been  examined  yet.  The 
doctor  makes  his  tour  of  inspection  every  Monday.  You 
will  be  called  up ;  he  will  satisfy  himself  in  regard  to  the 
acuteness  of  your  vision ;  the  result  will  be  recorded  in  a 
register,  and  a  corresponding  seat  will  be  assigned  you." 

Every  sound  suddenly  ceased ;  you  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop  in  the  room.  The  professor  had  just  entered. 

"  M.  Golovetchov,  our  instructor  in  Latin,"  whispered 
Serge. 

M.  Golovetchov  was  a  slender  man  of  medium  height, 
with  thin,  gray  locks  and  side  whiskers.  He  was  about 
fifty  years  of  age,  and  though  he  impressed  me  at  first  as 
being  very  austere  both  in  appearance  and  manner,  his 
steel-gray  eyes  kindled  when  he  talked,  and  at  times  as- 
sumed a  really  genial  expression.  He  was  severe,  but 
universally  respected. 

The  Latin  class  took  up  the  first  half  of  the  morning. 
The  recitation  of  one  of  Virgil's  Eclogues  was  first  given, 
and  occasionally  the  professor  interrupted  the  pupil  and 
repeated  a  few  lines  in  his  stead.  It  was  a  pleasure  to 
listen  to  his  melodious  voice  and  graceful  rendering  of 
the  lines.  It  was  evident  that  he  derived  a  keen  artistic 
enjoyment  from  the  well-rounded  periods,  and  that  it  must 
have  been  torture  to  him  to  hear  these  beautiful  verses 
murdered  by  a  drawling,  monotonous  voice,  or  an  in- 
correct rhythm.  It  must  be  admitted  that  he  was  often 
obliged  to  suffer  in  this  way  in  the  Third  Class,  however. 


152  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

The  recitation  of  the  eclogue  was  followed  by  the  trans- 
lation of  a  page  of  Sallust.  A  pupil  designated  by  the 
professor  read  a  few  lines  aloud,  then  made  a  literal  trans- 
lation into  Russian ;  another  pupil  remodelled  this  literal 
translation  into  a  more  elegant  form ;  and  finally  a  third 
student  explained  the  grammatical  construction  and  pointed 
out  the  idioms,  M.  Golovetchov  all  the  while  correcting  and 
explaining  in  the  most  lucid  and  animated  manner. 

My  father  himself  had  taught  me  all  the  Latin  and 
Greek  I  knew,  and  I  took  a  genuine  interest  in  the  lesson, 
and  was  astonished  at  the  swiftness  with  which  the  two 
hours  devoted  to  this  recitation  passed. 

As  I  was  looking  at  the  professor,  he  motioned  me  to 
approach  his  chair,  asked  me  my  name  and  age,  and  then 
told  me  to  prepare  the  lesson  assigned  for  the  next  day,  — 
a  translation  of  a  passage  from  Lucian  and  some  verses  of 
the  Iliad  to  be  learned  by  heart 

Then  he  withdrew,  and  we  boys  went  out  into  the 
courtyard  to  enjoy  our  recess. 

"  Te"  rentieff !  "  cried  Serge,  "  I  say,  wait  for  me  !  " 

On  hearing  this  exclamation  a  youth  in  front  of  me 
turned,  and  began  to  stare  at  me  in  a  most  remarkable 
manner. 

I  returned  the  stare  with  interest,  I  presume,  for  I  was 
greatly  astonished. 

He  was  a  tolerably  good-looking,  light  complexioned 
fellow,  about  my  own  size,  but  he  had  a  rather  consequen- 
tial, conceited  air.  At  last,  tired  of  being  stared  at,  I  put 
on  my  cap,  and  plunging  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  said, 
with  a  rather  forced  smile,  for  I  was  considerably 
embarrassed,  — 

"  You  "11  know  me  when  you  see  me  again,  I  hope."    He 


NEW  F4CES.  153 

made  no  reply,  however,  but  turning  his  back  on  me, 
walked  rapidly  away. 

"Did  you  bring  any  lunch?"  inquired  Serge,  as  he 
slipped  his  arm  through  mine. 

"No;  did  you?" 

"  No,  indeed ;  my  father  will  not  allow  it.  He  thinks 
that  eating  too  often  dulls  the  mind  and  makes  study  very 
difficult." 

"  It  strikes  me  that  this  is  a  precept  I  shall  be  very 
likely  to  observe,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  What  is  going  on 
down  there?"  I  added  aloud,  pointing  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  courtyard,  where  quite  a  crowd  of  students  had 
already  assembled. 

"  Ah,  they  are  going  to  skate.  What  a  pity  I  forgot 
my  skates  this  morning !  Have  n't  you  yours?  " 

"  No,  I  did  n't  bring  them." 

"  Oh,  well,  let  us  go  and  look  on." 

When  we  joined  the  others  we  found  that  most  of  the 
boys  had  their  skates  on,  and  were  already  skimming 
swiftly  over  the  sheet  of  ice  at  the  end  of  the  playground. 
I  saw,  too,  that  this  was  not  a  pond,  as  I  at  first  supposed, 
but  a  perfectly  level  grass-plot  covered  with  a  thick  coat- 
ing of  ice. 

"  It 's  a  splendid  skating-rink,"  explained  Serge,  "  though 
I  'm  not  sure  you  ever  saw  one  like  it  before.  As  soon  as 
the  first  cold  weather  comes,  we  flood  the  plot  a  little 
every  day,  —  of  course  the  grass  is  cut  short  first,  —  and 
the  ice  soon  becomes  so  thick  that  it  lasts  far  into  the 
spring,  and  long  after  the  ice  on  the  ponds  has  melted. 
The  only  trouble  is  that  we  can  enjoy  it  only  a  half  hour  a 
day,  for  we  have  but  one  recess." 

"  How  about  the  afternoon?  " 


154  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  Oh,  the  afternoon  session  is  only  two  hours  long, 
with  but  five  minutes  intermission,  so  there  is  no  time  for 
skating ;  besides,  we  have  afternoon  class  but  four  times  a 
week.  We  have  no  afternoon  session  Wednesdays  and 
Saturdays." 

We  had  been  watching  the  skaters  but  a  few  minutes 
when  a  shower  of  snowballs  struck  me  on  the  head  and 
back,  and  turning  quickly,  I  saw  a  crowd  of  Third  Class 
boys  half  concealed  behind  a  snow-bank,  from  which  they 
were  manufacturing  their  ammunition. 

"  Help,  Serge,  help !  "  I  cried  delighted,  for  I  was 
an  adept  in  this  sport.  Indeed,  it  was  almost  the  only 
game  I  had  ever  enjoyed  playing  with  the  children  of  our 
village.  Serge,  Grichine,  and  I,  together  with  a  few 
others,  soon  gathered  a  big  pile  of  snow,  and  returned  the 
enemy's  fire  with  a  well  directed  cannonade. 

We  soon  gained  a  partial  victory  over  our  assailants, 
and  were  about  rushing  forward  to  carry  the  fortress  by 
assault,  when  the  bell  rang,  and  we  raced  back  to  the 
college  pell-mell,  warmed  and  enlivened  by  this  stirring 
sport.  All  my  timidity  had  vanished  so  far  as  my  fellow 
pupils  were  concerned,  and  it  seemed  to  me  I  had  been  a 
student  of  Saint- Vladimir  College  all  my  life. 

The  boy  who  had  stared  at  me  in  such  an  insolent 
manner,  and  whom  I  had  heard  addressed  as  Strodtmann, 
had  been  at  the  head  of  the  attacking  party  in  our  snow- 
ball fight ;  but  I  was  a  little  surprised  when  he  jostled  me 
rather  roughly  in  the  corridor  on  our  return,  and  I  fancied 
I  overheard  some  muttered  remarks  about  "  Stepneaks  "  1 
and  "  peasants  who  force  themselves  in  among  city 
people."  I  was  by  no  means  sure  that  these  remarks  were 
1  A  dweller  upon  the  steppes,  synonymous  with  peasant  or  rustic. 


HEW  FACES.  155 

intended  for  me,  however ;  and  not  being  at  all  sensitive, 
my  return  to  the  class-room  was  attended  with  no  incident 
of  importance. 

It  was  Saturday,  so  we  were  free  for  the  rest  of  the  day 
when  the  morning  recitations  were  over ;  and  after  bidding 
Serge  good-by,  I  hastened  back  to  The  White  Bear, 
resolved  to  devote  the  afternoon  to  a  search  for  other 
lodgings. 

I  went  straight  up  to  my  garret,  packed  my  things,  and 
came  downstairs  with  my  valise  in  my  hand. 

"Is  my  bill  ready?"  I  inquired  of  my  hostess, who  sat 
by  the  stove  knitting,  with  a  rather  surly  expression  on  her 
face. 

"  Of  course.     Did  n't  you  ask  me  for  it?  " 

"  Then  give  it  to  me,  if  you  please." 

The  old  woman  handed  me  a  dirty  scrap  of  paper. 
"  Here  it  is,"  she  remarked, —  "  four  roubles,  five  kopecks ; 
and  I  call  upon  all  the  saints  to  witness  that  it  is  cheap, 
dirt  cheap,  for  such  a  nice  room,  —  and  a  young  man  that 
I  waited  on  like  my  own  son  —  " 

I  interrupted  her  with  an  exclamation  of  wrath  and 
dismay.  Four  roubles,  five  kopecks  !  It  was  a  clear  case 
of  robbery !  Why,  it  would  take  nearly  all  the  money  I 
possessed  in  the  world  to  pay  it ! 

But  the  old  woman  began  to  cry  out  as  if  some  one  was 
abusing  her. 

"  Room,  half  a  rouble,"  she  whined ;  "  dinner  only 
half  a  rouble,  —  a  dinner  for  a  prince,  too!  — brandy  for 
eight  persons,  —  upon  my  word  as  an  honest  woman,  I 
charge  less  for  the  brandy  than  it  cost  me,  —  two  and  a 
half  roubles  ;  and  the  broken  plates,  —  plates  that  belonged 
to  my  poor  dead  father,  the  only  relic  I  had  left  of  that 


156  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

sainted  man,  —  one  rouble,  five  kopecks ;  and  not  a  single 
kopeck  for  all  the  trouble  you  have  given  me,  —  nothing 
for  taking  up  all  that  water,  that  nice,  fresh  water  to  your 
room  !  No  nobleman  in  his  palace  could  have  been  better 
served.  If  you  want  to  cheat  a  poor  widow  you  can,  but 
may  the  curse  of  heaven  fall  upon  you !  "  etc. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  way  to  escape  from  the  horrible 
old  creature  but  to  pay  her.  I  did  so,  and  left  the  inn 
with  an  almost  empty  purse,  and  far  from  pleased  with  the 
results  of  my  first  day  of  independence.  Then  I  began  to 
wander  about  the  city  in  search  of  a  shelter,  intending  at 
the  same  time  to  try  and  find  some  work  by  which  I  could 
support  myself.  I  roamed  about  a  long  time  without  suc- 
cess, however,  for  my  experience  at  the  White  Bear  made 
me  shrink  from  the  thought  of  entering  another  den  of  that 
kind,  and  all  the  lodgings  I  liked  were  too  expensive  for 
me.  While  searching  for  lodgings,  I  also  kept  a  sharp 
look-out  for  places  where  I  thought  they  might  need  an 
honest,  industrious  boy.  Thus,  I  tried  in  turn  a  bookseller 
who  needed  a  copyist,  a  harness-maker  who  had  adver- 
tised for  an  apprentice,  and  a  fire-engine  station  where  the 
services  of  a  boy  willing  to  make  himself  generally  useful 
were  desired ;  but  some  wanted  references,  others  thought 
me  too  young,  or  the  position  was  already  filled. 

When  night  came,  I  was  no  better  off  than  when  I  be- 
gan. I  was  tired  and  disheartened,  and  as  I  dragged  my- 
self wearily  along,  laden  with  my  valise,  which  seemed 
intolerably  heavy  now,  I  asked  myself  despondently  what 
was  going  to  become  of  me. 

Meanwhile,  my  peregrinations  had  brought  me  back  to 
the  same  railway  where  I  left  the  train  on  my  arrival  in  the 
city,  and  an  almost  homelike  feeling  stole  over  me  at  the 


DMITRI    IX   PERPLEXITY    ABOUT   HIS    NIGHT'S    LODGING. 


NEW  FACES.  159 

thought  that  this  iron  track  which  dwindled  away  to  a 
mere  thread  in  the  distance  led  to  Sitovka.  Almost  un- 
consciously, I  entered  the  depot,  and  taking  advantage  of 
the  fact  that  I  had  my  valise  with  me,  I  did  what  any 
person  who  was  waiting  for  a  train  was  at  liberty  to  do,  — 
that  is,  selected  a  bench  and  stretched  myself  out  upon  it, 
using  my  valise  as  a  pillow.  In  a  few  moments  I  had 
fallen  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  I  did  not  wake  until 
the  next  morning.  No  one  had  troubled  himself  in  the 
least  about  my  presence.  A  good-natured  looking  porter 
was  opening  the  baggage-room  when  I  woke,  and  I  ven- 
tured to  ask  him  to  take  charge  of  my  valise  until  evening. 
He  consented ;  and  after  I  had  taken  out  my  skates  and 
thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  I  left  the  station  just  as  the 
sun  made  its  appearance  above  the  eastern  horizon. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN. 

I  WALKED  briskly  toward  the  city  with  my  head  well 
up  in  the  air,  and  a  few  kopecks  still  jingling  in  my 
pocket.  My  breakfast  consisted  of  a  big  piece  of  rye 
bread ;  and  while  eating  it,  I  seated  myself  on  a  bench  in 
one  of  the  public  squares  to  review  the  situation.  As  I 
was  sitting  there  Strodtmann  passed.  I  recognized  him  in- 
stantly. He  was  quite  gorgeously  attired  in  a  pair  of  wide 
black  velvet  trousers,  and  his  broadcloth  pelisse  was 
trimmed  with  costly  fur.  He  gave  me  a  contemptuous 
glance,  and  I  felt  the  hot  blood  rush  to  my  face.  The 
thought  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  be  disgracing  my 
uniform  —  or  rather  the  famous  cap  of  the  institution  — 
by  munching  black  bread  in  a  public  place,  and  if  I  had 
yielded  to  my  first  impulse,  I  should  have  stepped  up  to 
my  fellow  pupil  and  expressed  my  willingness  to  explain 
then  and  there  if  he  wished  it;  but  either  he  did  not  per- 
ceive my  intention,  or  he  was  resolved  not  to  give  me  the 
desired  opportunity,  for  after  having  surveyed  me  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  supercilious  air,  he  continued  on  his 
way,  whistling  in  a  manner  that  seemed  positively  insult- 
ing to  me.  Although  I  was  generally  not  at  all  prone  to 
take  offence,  Strodtmann's  behavior  greatly  disconcerted 
me ;  and  as  soon  as  he  disappeared  from  sight  around  the 
next  corner,  I  took  a  very  dejected  survey  of  myself.  My 
toilet,  made  at  the  pump  in  the  courtyard  of  the  railway 


A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN.  l6l 

station,  had  been  of  the  most  primitive  kind,  and  my 
clothes  needed  brushing  sadly ;  but  though  this  was  very 
annoying,  how  could  I  help  it?  I  could  certainly  sub- 
mit to  this  trifling  inconvenience  after  so  many  greater 
trials. 

The  morning  was  magnificent,  and  as  it  was  Sunday,  the 
bells  of  the  fifteen  hundred  churches  of  Moscow  were  fill- 
ing the  clear,  crisp  air  with  a  flood  of  melody.  The  trees 
were  thickly  hung  with  icicles,  to  which  the  bright  sunlight 
imparted  all  the  brilliant  hues  of  the  rainbow.  The  ground 
was  covered  with  a  thick  coating  of  snow  and  ice,  and  I 
saw  a  number  of  children  gliding  swiftly  along  on  skates 
instead  of  walking  like  the  staid  and  respectable  citizens. 

I  had  noticed  the  same  thing  the  evening  before,  and 
this  had  caused  me  to  take  my  own  skates  out  of  my 
valise  before  leaving  the  depot;  and  as  soon  as  I  had 
finished  my  breakfast,  I  put  them  on  and  resumed  my  tour 
of  inspection. 

The  streets  were  very  quiet,  and  the  people  I  met  wore 
that  thoughtful,  rather  austere  expression  usual  with  us  on 
Sunday.  I  met  entire  families  on  their  way  to  church,  the 
ladies  and  children  warmly  dressed  in  fur-lined  pelisses, 
and  followed  by  tall  footmen  carrying  their  prayer-books. 

As  I  knew  nothing  about  the  city,  I  thought  I  would  go 
to  the  Kremlin,  and  take  another  look  at  it;  so  I  started 
off,  gliding  swiftly  and  smoothly  through  the  peaceful 
streets.  Oh,  what  good  exercise  skating  is !  I  was  soon 
warm,  almost  too  warm  in  fact,  and  my  situation  seemed 
much  less  gloomy  to  me  by  the  time  I  reached  the  Krasno'f 
Plocshad,  or  Red  Square. 

A  church  loomed  up  before  me,  a  strange,  fantastic  edi- 
fice, covered  with  towers  and  domes,  all  of  different  shapes 

ii 


1 62  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

and  sizes  and  colors;  one,  painted  to  represent  a  green 
net-work  over  a  yellow  ground,  another  red,  with  broad 
white  stripes,  another  blue  and  yellow,  and  still  another 
gilded.  From  a  belfry  in  one  of  the  towers,  the  bells 
were  ringing  joyously. 

"  Oh,  yes,  this  must  be  the  church  Serge  ArcadieVitch 
was  telling  me  about,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  I  think  I  '11  go 
in  and  take  a  look  at  it." 

The  massive  doors  stood  open.  The  worshippers  were 
in  their  places,  and  the  rich  tones  of  the  great  organ  al- 
ready filled  the  nave.  I  stepped  in,  but  paused  almost 
instantly,  overcome  with  admiration,  for  never  before  had 
I  heard  any  music  to  be  compared  with  this.  First  came 
a  rich  burst  of  majestic  melody  that  died  away  in  a  sigh 
softer  than  the  murmur  of  the  summer  breeze;  then  a 
pure,  ethereal  note,  softer  and  more  mellow  than  any 
human  voice,  took  up  the  refrain  again,  which  ended,  as  it 
had  begun,  in  another  glorious  and  inspiring  burst  of 
melody. 

Never  had  I  dreamed  of  anything  like  this.  I  turned 
hot  and  cold  by  turns  as  I  listened  to  the  magical  strains 
with  breathless  eagerness,  and  when  they  died  away,  I 
found  that  my  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

I  stole  softly  down  to  the  other  end  of  the  church ;  and 
seeing  a  little  winding  staircase  before  me,  I  mounted  it 
and  found  myself  standing  in  front  of  the  organ. 

A  venerable  man  dressed  in  black  was  seated  at  the 
instrument,  his  long  white  hair  hanging  in  wild  disorder 
about  his  austere  face.  He  played  without  even  glancing 
at  the  music  in  front  of  him ;  for  though  his  fingers  moved 
over  the  keyboard  with  marvellous  celerity  and  precision, 
his  sparkling  eyes  were  fixed  on  vacancy. 


A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN.  163 

About  thirty  lads  from  ten  to  sixteen  years  of  age  were 
grouped  behind  him.  Among  them  I  perceived  one  ot 
my  classmates  —  that  same  Grichine  Yegov,  of  whom  Krat- 
kine  had  spoken.  I  ventured  to  approach  him,  for  he  was 
standing  a  little  behind  the  others. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  I  asked  eagerly,  pointing  to  the  organist. 

"Why,  that  is  Master  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky,  the  great 
Hungarian  composer,"  replied  Grichine.  "  Did  you  never 
hear  of  him?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  you  can  boast  of  being  the  only  person  in  Mos- 
cow that  has  not.  Everybody  comes  to  St.  Basil's  on 
Sunday  to  hear  him  play,  —  even  the  czar  has  been  here, 
for  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  won't  put  himself  out  for  any 
one,  and  plays  nowhere  but  here.  For  more  than  thirty 
years  he  has  never  been  heard  anywhere  else." 

An  impressive  chant  interrupted  us.  The  service  had 
begun.  The  choristers  drew  nearer  to  the  great  musician, 
and  suddenly  began  to  sing  one  of  the  most  triumphant 
and  inspiring  canticles  of  our  liturgy;  and  their  pure, 
sweet  voices,  supported  by  the  rich,  full  tones  of  the 
organ,  were  wonderfully  effective,  as  the  waves  of  melody 
rose  and  fell  through  the  arches  of  the  ancient  edifice. 

I  was  familiar  with  this  canticle  from  having  often  sung 
it  at  Sitovka  with  my  poor  Agathon  Illarionovitch. 

When  they  began  the  second  verse,  I  could  not  resist 
the  desire  to  unite  my  voice  with  those  of  the  choristers. 
I  sang  at  first  almost  under  my  breath ;  then  seeing  that 
the  sopranos  seemed  weak,  I  aided  them  with  the  whole 
power  of  my  voice,  thus  carrying  the  air  alone,  as  it 
were. 

Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  turned  and  fixed  a  stern  eye  upon 


1 64  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

me,  without  ceasing  to  play ;  but  instead  of  being  intimi- 
dated by  his  glance,  I  fancied  I  read  a  sort  of  encourage- 
ment in  it,  and  intoxicated  by  the  beauty  of  the  music, 
I  yielded  to  the  spell,  and  sang  on  to  the  end  with  my 
whole  heart  and  soul. 

As  the  inspiring  strains  died  away  in  one  rich,  long 
sustained,  vibrating  chord,  the  maestro  rose,  or  rather 
bounded  from  his  seat,  and  came  toward  me.  I  fancied 
he  was  going  to  pitch  me  headlong  downstairs  to  punish 
me  for  my  intrusion.  In  fact,  I  felt  almost  certain  that 
was  to  be  my  fate  as  I  saw  him  push  through  the  crowd 
of  choristers.  On  reaching  me,  he  seized  me  in  an  iron 
grasp  that  would  have  crushed  shoulders  less  sturdy  than 
mine,  dragged  me  up  to  the  organ,  and  placing  me  on 
his  right,  said  imperiously,  — 

"  Stand  there  !     Don't  you  dare  to  move !  " 

I  took  good  care  not  to  disobey  him;  but  when  the 
choir  began  an  anthem,  I  dared  not  open  my  lips. 

"  Sing, you  egregious  idiot !  "growled  N6pomuk,  savagely. 

I  joined  in  the  chorus,  and  somehow  fancying  I  again 
read  approval  and  encouragement  in  the  conductor's  eyes, 
I  took  it  into  my  head  to  display  my  modest  talents  for 
his  benefit ;  so  ever  and  anon  I  amused  myself  by  chang- 
ing from  one  part  to  another,  singing  now  alto,  and  now 
soprano,  and  embellishing  the  air  with  the  trills  and  runs 
in  which  my  soul  delighted,  exactly  as  I  had  been  wont 
to  do  in  Sitovka. 

The  anthem  ended ;  the  maestro,  who  had  not  uttered 
a  word,  began  to  play  a  wild,  sweet  melody  that  thrilled 
me  with  rapturous  delight;  I  listened  breathlessly,  and 
when  the  last  note  died  away,  I  could  not  repress  a  deep 
sigh. 


A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN.  165 

He  leaned  toward  me. 

"  Do  you  know  the  Invocation  solo  in  G-flat?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Sing  it,  then ;  and  mind  you,  no  nonsense  this  time." 

My  heart  throbbed  almost  to  bursting;  but  when  the 
choir  finished  the  prelude,  I  began  the  solo.  The  solemn, 
majestic  strains  wafted  me  upwards  as  if  upon  wings ;  my 
embarrassment  was  forgotten.  I  gave  full  vent  to  my 
voice,  and  was  filled  with  wonder  myself  as  I  heard  it  ring 
out  pure  and  rich,  filling  the  immense  structure  even  to 
the  vaulted  roof. 

The  service  ended;  the  old  musician  beckoned  me 
to  him. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  and  sing  here  every  Sunday?  " 
he  asked  curtly. 

"  I  am  a  stranger  in  Moscow.  I  have  but  just  arrived  in 
the  city." 

"  Very  well,  henceforth  you  are  a  member  of  this  choir. 
Do  you  understand  that?  If  you  are  poor,  and  you  look 
as  if  you  were,  I  '11  give  you  four  roubles  a  month.  Do  you 
hear,  boys?  This  lad  is  engaged  as  first  soprano." 

I  tried  to  thank  him. 

"  That  will  do !  that  will  do,"  interrupted  the  maestro. 
"  See  that  you  are  on  time.  Punctuality  is  indispensable. 
Look  here,  you  had  better  come  and  see  me  this  evening. 
We  can  talk  the  matter  over." 

Without  another  word,  he  walked  away. 

"  Wonders  of  wonders  !  "  ejaculated  Grichine,  who  had 
joined  me.  "  What  a  success  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Why,  never  within  the  memory  of  man  has  the  great 
Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  been  so  corrtplimentary.  We  have 


1 66  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

never  before  heard  from  his  lips  any  epithets  save  '  egregi- 
ous idiot '  and  '  consummate  ass ' !  And  he  wants  to  have  a 
talk  with  you.  It  is  truly  marvellous !  " 

I  left  the  church  in  company  with  Grichine.  Seven  or 
eight  choristers  were  standing  in  the  doorway  as  we  passed 
out.  They  all  stopped  talking  on  seeing  us. 

"  Savine  does  n't  look  very  well  pleased,"  remarked 
Grichine,  laughing. 

"Who  is  Savine?" 

"  That  dark-complexioned  fellow  who  was  holding  forth 
in  the  middle  of  the  group.  He  has  been  our  first  so- 
prano. Of  course  it  is  not  very  flattering  to  him  to  find 
himself  ousted  by  you." 

The  lad  referred  to  surveyed  me  contemptuously,  then 
turning  away,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  remarked  loud 
enough  for  me  to  hear, — 

"  Bah  !  the  maestro  has  lost  his  senses  !  He  '11  get  over 
it,  though.  These  violent  fancies  of  his  never  last  long !  " 

He  walked  away.  I  noticed  he  too  wore  the  red  cap  of 
a  Third  Class  student. 

"  Does  he  go  to  our  school?  "  I  inquired  of  Grichine. 

"Savine  Podnier?  Oh,  yes;  he  belongs  to  our  school 
and  to  our  class.  You  '11  know  him  by  and  by." 

"  Are  there  any  other  of  our  schoolmates  in  the  choir?  " 

"  No,  only  we  three.  I  come  here,  you  know,  merely  to 
earn  a  little  money,  and  the  rich  students  think  it  quite  be- 
neath their  dignity  to  do  such  a  thing.  Savine,  however, 
sang  for  the  sake  of  the  glory,  he  being  first  soprano ;  but 
now  you've  taken  his  place,  I  doubt  if  he  comes  any 
more." 

I  had  quite  a  pleasant  chat  with  Grichine,  who  seems  to 
be  a  very  nice  fellow.  He  told  me  a  good  deal  about  him- 


A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN.  1 67 

self.  It  seems  he  has  lost  his  father,  and  his  mother  is 
very  poor,  and  they  find  it  difficult  to  get  along.  He  told 
me,  too,  that  it  was  the  height  of  his  ambition  to  become  a 
doctor.  I,  in  turn,  gave  him  a  brief  history  of  my  own  life, 
and  he  made  me  promise  that  I  would  come  and  dine 
with  him  some  day  at  the  Pension  Goltchov,  that  Serge 
pointed  out  to  me. 

We  parted  very  good  friends,  and  I  continued  my  walk, 
greatly  relieved  to  know  that  my  immediate  wants  were 
thus  provided  for.  In  the  evening,  I  went  to  call  on  the 
maestro,  as  I  had  been  ordered  to  do.  Grichine  gave  me 
the  address. 

Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  lives  in  a  dingy  old  house  in  a 
gloomy  street.  He  opened  the  door  himself  when  I 
rapped,  and  ushered  me  into  his  own  private  apartment. 
The  wildest  confusion  reigned  there.  The  chairs  and 
tables,  and  even  the  floor,  were  piled  high  with  music  and 
musical  instruments,  all  mixed  pell  mell  with  boots  and 
shoes,  clothing  and  cooking  utensils. 

He  had  evidently  been  engaged  in  playing  the  violin 
when  I  entered,  and  he  resumed  the  interrupted  melody 
without  appearing  to  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  me.  It 
was  an  unspeakably  sad  and  weird  composition.  The  violin 
wailed  and  sobbed  like  some  human  soul  in  mortal  an- 
guish ;  there  were  strange  discords,  sudden  transitions, 
abrupt  changes  of  key;  then  snatches  of  savage  mirth, 
which,  together  with  the  dimly  lighted  room  and  the  fur- 
rowed, care-worn  face  of  the  musician,  produced  an  inde- 
scribable effect  upon  me. 

I  wept  in  spite  of  myself,  —  my  grief,  my  loneliness,  my 
gloomy  future,  seemed  to  be  so  faithfully  depicted  in  this 
melody;  then,  without  pausing,  the  maestro  glided  into 


1 68  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

a  smooth,  soft  movement  of  marvellous  sweetness  and 
peacefulness. 

"  Wrat  do  you  think  of  it?  "  he  asked,  as  the  last  note 
died  away. 

"  You  broke  my  heart  at  first,  but  afterwards  you  more 
than  consoled  me,"  I  answered,  wiping  my  eyes. 

The  old  musician's  smile  was  one  of  profound  satis- 
faction. 

"  Well,  it  was  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  who  composed  that 
melody,"  he  replied.  "  People  refused  to  acknowledge  his 
talent  when  he  was  young,  you  know ;  they  sneered  at  him 
and  ridiculed  him  and  made  his  hair  turn  white  while  he 
was  still  young.  Now  when  old  age  has  come,  and  the 
grave  is  clamoring  for  my  bones,  and  I  have  only  a  few 
more  miserable  days  to  drag  out  in  a  foreign  land,  they 
would  gladly  recall  and  applaud  me.  What  do  I  care  for 
their  praise  now?  I  am  too  proud!  I  scorn  their  stupid 
flattery,  and  they  shall  never  hear  the  melodies  that  ran 
riot  in  my  brain  when  I  was  in  my  prime,  —  never!  They 
are  all  here,"  he  added,  striking  his  clenched  fist  on  the 
table  before  him,  —  a  table  piled  with  sheets  of  music ;  "  and 
when  death  comes,  when  my  last  hour  is  near,  I,  Nepomuk 
Raabzinsky,  will  thrust  all  this  into  the  flames  with  my  own 
hand,  and  my  works  will  perish  with  me,  and  by  me." 

His  gestures  revealed  a  savage  exultation.  I  believed 
him  mad  then ;  afterwards  I  learned  that  his  peculiarities 
and  his  misanthropy  were  alike  due  to  great  suffering. 
For  a  long,  long  time  he  had  been  pitilessly  ridiculed  and 
misunderstood;  then  he  left  his  ungrateful  country,  and 
came  to  Moscow,  where  he  led  a  life  of  absolute  seclusion 
for  years,  going  only  to  church,  where  he  gave  his  ser- 
vices gratuitously. 


DMITRI   IN   THE   OLD    MUSICIAN'S    ROOM. 


A  FAMOUS  MUSICIAN.  I /I 

When  he  became  a  little  calmer,  he  questioned  me 
about  myself;  and  I  tried  to  tell  him  how  grateful  I  was 
to  him  for  having  taken  me  as  a  pupil. 

"  Bah !  You  will  do  like  all  the  rest  of  them,"  he  ex- 
claimed bitterly.  "  I  shall  develop  your  musical  talents, 
and  form  you,  as  it  were ;  then,  when  you  become  famous, 
—  for  you  are  gifted  enough  to  become  so,  if  you  will,  — 
you  '11  forget  all  your  teacher  has  done  for  you ;  you  '11 
even  cease  to  remember  that  you  were  ever  a  pupil  of 
that  old  musical  fanatic  Raabzinsky." 

I  protested  in  vain. 

"  Silence  !  I  tell  you  you  '11  do  like  all  the  others !  " 
cried  the  old  maestro.  "  I  Ve  known  only  too  long  what 
one  may  expect  to  reap  here  below,  —  nothing  but  in- 
gratitude and  black  hypocrisy.  Here,  try  this  page." 

I  glanced  at  the  lines  of  music  jotted  down,  haphazard, 
in  characters  as  strongly  marked  and  erratic  as  Nepomuk 
Raabzinsky's  own  traits  of  character ;  and  feeling  sure  that 
it  was  a  melody  of  his  own  composition,  I  did  my  best  to 
render  it  correctly  and  with  feeling. 

"You  sang  it  very  badly,"  he  said  sternly,  when  I  had 
concluded.  "  Try  again,  and  do  it  better  this  time." 

I  strove  to  obey  as  I  sang  the  composition  again,  and 
yet  again.  As  I  was  about  to  begin  for  the  fourth  time, 
he  interrupted  me. 

"  Enough !  "  he  said  brusquely.  "  You  have  a  good 
voice,  and  what  is  better,  a  good  ear.  You  love  music ;  I 
can  see  that.  It  is  a  great  pity,  though.  You  had  much 
better  like  something  else,  —  mending  shoes  or  measuring 
calico,  for  instance.  But  what  idiot  was  it  that  taught  you 
to  sing?" 

"  It  was  no  idiot.     It  was  the  clergyman  of  our  village, 


SCHOOLBOY  DAYS   IN  RUSSIA. 

and  he  has  a  very  fine  voice.     If  I  have  any  talent  for 
music,  I  owe  it  to  him." 

"  Hum !  You  're  faithful  to  your  old  friends,  I  see. 
How  strange !  Ah,  well,  you  may  go  now.  You  can 
come  back  early  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  '11  show  you 
what  singing  is.  Where  do  you  live?" 

"  I  have  n't  any  lodgings  yet ;  I  —  " 

The  maestro  opened  the  door,  and  put  his  head  out  into 
the  corridor. 

"  Here,  —  hallo  there,  you  woman  !  Ouliana,  I  say  ! 
Ouliana !  " 

A  hideous-looking  old  woman  appeared  in  answer  to 
this  peremptory  summons. 

"  Give  this  boy  a  room !  "  shouted  the  maestro ;  "  and 
don't  make  him  pay  too  much  for  it,  or  you  '11  have  to 
settle  with  me." 

He  re-entered  his  room,  slamming  the  door  violently 
behind  him;  and  I  followed  the  old  woman  up  to  the 
garret,  where  she  showed  me  a  tolerably  clean  little  room, 
containing  a  narrow  bed  and  a  stool,  which  she  said  she 
would  rent  to  me  for  a  rouble  a  month.  Having  ac- 
cepted her  offer,  I  hastened  back  to  the  railway  station 
for  my  valise.  Then  I  returned  and  took  possession  of 
my  little  room,  with  which  I  was  greatly  pleased.  With 
the  addition  of  a  shelf  or  two  for  my  books,  I  thought  my 
new  quarters  would  be  quite  palatial.  I  soon  fell  asleep ; 
but  until  morning  the  plaintive  tones  of  the  great  com- 
poser's violin  were  mingled  with  my  dreams. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   BITER  BITTEN. 

ON  Monday  the  physician  connected  with  the  Gymna- 
sium paid  us  a  visit,  as  Serge  had  predicted.     He 
examined  me,  and  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  convinced  of 
the  vigor  of  my  constitution ;    he  seated  me,  too,  on  the 
last  row,  among  the  far  sighted  pupils. 

Besides  being  separated  from  Serge,  I  had  the  still 
greater  annoyance  of  finding  myself  in  close  proximity  to 
Capiton  Strodtmann.  Savine  Podnier  occupied  a  seat  be- 
side him,  and  when  I  took  my  place  I  received  a  hostile 
glance  from  both  of  them.  I  must  admit  that  I  returned 
it  with  interest.  My  neighbor  on  the  right  was  Grichine 
Yegov.  He  was  so  thin  and  dark  and  short  that  he  looked 
very  like  a  monkey,  and  the  strange  contortions  he  made 
while  writing  increased  the  resemblance.  He  gradually 
got  his  head  farther  and  farther  over  until  it  rested  upon 
his  right  arm ;  and  it  was  only  by  a  vast  amount  of  sniffing 
and  snorting,  and  by  poking  his  tongue  far  out  of  his 
mouth,  that  he  managed  to  write  his  exercises,  —  which 
certainly  ought  to  have  been  marvels,  judging  from  the 
amount  of  time  and  labor  he  expended  on  them ;  but  I 
soon  discovered  that,  in  spite  of  his  apparent  studiousness, 
Master  Grichine  was  a  very  fun-loving  fellow,  and  sure  to 
have  a  hand  in  every  piece  of  mischief. 

On  my  left  sat  a  handsome  boy,  who  looked  consider- 
ably younger  than  most  of  our  fellow-students.  He  was 


174  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

always  very  elegantly  dressed,  and  usually  came  escorted 
by  his  private  tutor,  —  a  pale,  slender  young  man,  — and 
followed  by  a  page  of  about  his  own  age,  who  carried  his 
books.  This  young  aristocrat's  name  was  Platon  Gre"- 
gorov,  and  he  belonged  to  one  of  the  first  families  in 
Moscow;  but  he  was  a  good-hearted,  jolly  fellow  for  all 
that,  and  Grichine's  pranks  were  a  never-failing  source  of 
amusement  to  him. 

Immediately  after  the  physician's  departure  lessons  be- 
gan. We  had  mathematics  that  morning;  and  I  was  soon 
reduced  to  a  state  bordering  on  despair  by  a  problem 
the  professor  placed  on  the  blackboard ;  — 

"  A  hound  is  pursuing  a  hare  which  is  95  leaps  in  advance  of 
him.  The  hound  makes  6  leaps  while  the  hare  is  making  8,  and 
4  leaps  of  the  hound  are  equal  to  7  of  those  made  by  the  hare. 
How  many  leaps  must  the  hound  make  in  order  to  overtake  the 
hare? 

"To  be  solved  by  arithmetic." 

"  We  have  a  new  scholar,  I  see,"  he  remarked.  "  Dmitri 
F6dorovitch  Terentieff,  come  to  the  board,  and  explain  the 
solution  of  this  problem." 

Alas !  arithmetic  has  never  been  my  forte.  I  went  to 
the  board  most  reluctantly,  and  soon  had  hares  and 
hounds  in  a  state  of  inextricable  confusion.  I  stood  be- 
fore the  blackboard,  chalk  in  hand,  now  effacing  a  figure 
with  a  nervous  hand,  now  making  one,  adding,  subtract- 
ing, dividing  the  hares  by  the  hounds,  and  the  hounds  by 
the  hares,  toiling  and  moiling,  but  making  not  one  atom 
of  progress. 

"  Hum  !  "  said  the  professor,  seeing  my  complete  be- 
wilderment; "this  is  not  very  promising.  Yegov,  come 
and  show  us  how  this  problem  should  be  solved." 


A  BITER  BITTEN.  175 

Grichine  was  at  the  blackboard  before  I  had  time  to  lay 
down  the  crayon. 

"  Go  back  to  your  seat,  Terentieff." 

I  returned  to  my  place,  overcome  with  confusion,  only 
to  be  greeted  with  the  sneers  and  smothered  laughter  of 
Strodtmann  and  his  follower. 

"  How  embarrassed  the  poor  child  is  !  "  muttered  Capiton. 

"  Lend  him  a  fan ;    he   looks  warm." 

"  No ;  don't  you  see  it  is  the  blush  of  innocence  that 
dyes  his  cheeks?" 

And  Capiton,  seizing  a  pencil,  hastily  drew  a  rough 
caricature  of  me  and  my  costume,  —  my  long  hair,  sturdy 
limbs,  and  shabby  blouse  (there  was  a  big  patch  on  the 
back,  at  which  I  inwardly  rebelled),  —  and  after  writing 
under  it,  "  The  new  Pascal  discovering  the  laws  of  mathe- 
matics," he  circulated  his  sketch  among  the  boys. 

This  chef-d'oeuvre  was  a  great  success.  It  was  passed 
along  under  the  benches,  and  everybody  laughed  im- 
moderately. I  did  not  like  to  appear  incensed  at  a  joke 
which  might  not  have  been  intended  to  hurt  my  feelings ; 
so  I  laughed  with  the  others. 

Meanwhile,  Grichine  had  triumphantly  solved  all  the 
difficulties  which  seemed  so  terrifying  to  me,  and  was 
now  concluding  the  operation  with  an  imposing  flourish, 
announcing  that  the  hound  would  have  to  make  228  leaps 
in  order  to  overtake  the  hare. 

"Very  good,"  said  M.  Perekoff.  "Strodtmann,  you 
may  now  solve,  by  algebra,  the  following  problem :  - 

"  A  father  is  asked  his  son's  age.  '  I  was  three  times  my  son's 
age  twelve  years  ago,'  replied  the  father.  '  Now,  I  am  only  twice 
his  age.'  What  is  the  age  of  the  father  and  of  the  son?  " 

All  Strodtmann's  cheerfulness  seemed  to  have  deserted 


176  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

him  as  he  dragged  himself  to  the  blackboard.  He  effaced 
every  mark  with  great  care  and  deliberation ;  he  sharpened 
his  crayon ;  then  he  blew  his  nose ;  then  he  indulged  in 
a  fit  of  coughing. 

"  We  are  waiting,  Strodtmann,"  remarked  the  professor. 

Then  seeing  the  pupil  still  remain  silent  and  motionless, 

"  How  many  unknown  quantities  have  we  in  this 
problem?"  he  asked. 

After  a  long  silence,  Capiton  replied  that  there  were 
two. 

"  Think  a  moment." 

"  There  must  be  two,  Gregov  Ivanovitch,"  repeated 
Strodtmann,  with  an  air  of  injured  virtue.  "  The  age  of 
the  father  and  of  the  son." 

"  Is  not  the  father's  age  twice  that  of  the  son?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  I  just  said  —  " 

"  What,  then?     Answer,  Kratkine,  if  you  please." 

"  It  would  only  be  necessary  to  find  the  age  of  one  in 
order  to  discover  the  age  of  the  other,"  replied  Serge, 
promptly. 

"  Evidently.     Go  on,  Strodtmann." 

But  Capiton  continued  to  blunder  so  outrageously  that 
the  professor  at  last  sent  him  back  to  his  seat. 

Serge  was  summoned  in  his  stead,  and  explained  each 
step  with  a  calmness  that  the  most  refractory  problem 
would  be  powerless  to  disturb,  —  at  least  so  it  seemed 
to  me. 

I  learned  in  a  few  moments  that  if  x  represented  the 
son's  age,  2  x  would  represent  the  father's ;  hence,  twelve 
years  ago  the  son's  age  was  x —  12,  and  the  father's 
2  x —  12.  As  the  father  was  then  three  times  the  age 
of  the  son,  we  would  have  the  following  equation :  — 


THE  BITER  BITTEN.  Iff 

3    (X 12)   =  2  X 12 

3  X 36  =.2  X 12 

x=.  24 

Consequently,  the  father  was  48  years  old  and  the  son  24. 

While  I  was  gazing  at  my  new  friend's  clever  exposition, 
M.  Perekoff,  turning  to  another  pupil  in  the  front  row, 
said,  — 

"  Ignato  Stepanovitch  Luvine,  is  there  any  other  way  of 
solving  this  problem?" 

" Yes,"  replied  Luvine,  promptly;  "we  might  proceed 
with  two  unknown  quantities.  For  example,  let  x  repre- 
sent the  age  of  the  father,  and  y  that  of  the  son.  We 
should  then  have  the  following  equations :  — 

x=z  2  y 
x  —  12=  (y  —  12)  3 

hence  by  substitution : 

2  y —  12  =  37  —  36 

— y  =  —  24  or  y  =  24 
*  =  48" 

"  Fudge !  there 's  nothing  very  difficult  about  that," 
muttered  Strodtmann,  who  seemed  to  have  recovered  his 
spirits  entirely.  "  I  could  have  done  it  just  as  well  as 
they  did,  if  I  had  chosen  to  take  the  trouble." 

M.  Perekoff  then  gave  us  some  explanations  in  al- 
gebra and  geometry,  and  his  clear  and  concise  manner 
of  speaking  convinced  me  that  the  science  of  mathematics 
was  really  something  very  different  from  that  which  I  had 
learned  under  Master  Lebewohl's  ferule.  After  he  had 
assigned  the  lesson  for  the  next  day,  the  bell  rang  for 
recess. 

12 


1 78  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,"  Serge  said  to  me  as  we 
were  on  our  way  to  the  skating  pond ;  "  if  I  were  in  your 
place,  I  would  have  my  hair  cut." 

"  Why  should  I,  when  it  seems  to  afford  everybody  so 
much  amusement,"  I  replied,  laughing  at  the  recollection 
of  Capiton's  caricature. 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  very  well ;  but  here  everybody  wears 
their  hair  short,  so  yours  gives  you  a  —  a  rather  peculiar 
look." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  an  idiotic  look,  and  have  done 
with  it?"  I  retorted  good-naturedly.  "Well,  many  thanks 
for  your  advice ;  I  '11  follow  it  after  school." 

A  big,  brawny  fellow  like  me,  with  long  hair  hanging 
down  upon  his  shoulders  after  the  fashion  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  a  tiny  cap  perched  upon  his  luxuriant  locks, 
must  indeed  have  looked  odd  enough. 

I  had  my  hair  cut  that  very  day,  and  felt  much  more 
comfortable  after  the  operation. 

There  was  a  French  recitation  that  afternoon,  and  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  my  translation  praised  by  M. 
Lapenelle.  He  called  attention  to  some  expressions  he 
considered  specially  well  rendered,  and  said  I  had  managed 
the  idioms  much  better  than  the  majority  of  my  class- 
mates. He  expressed  himself  as  equally  well  satisfied 
with  my  theme,  but  added  that  he  was  surprised  to  notice 
in  it  certain  affectations  of  speech  that  would  lead  one  to 
suppose  I  had  learned  my  French  in  the  days  of  the  grand 
monarqtie,  Louis  XIV.,  and  asked  me  how  it  happened. 

I  replied  rather  timidly  that  I  had  learned  French  from 
my  father,  and  that  he  himself  had  learned  it  from  an  old 
dmigrt,  —  an  octogenarian, — which  might  account  for  my 
rather  antiquated  mode  of  expression.  I  answered  in 


THE  BITER  BITTEN.  179 

French,  as  M.  Lapenelle  never  allowed  a  word  of  Rus- 
sian to  be  used  in  the  class-room,  except  when  it  was 
absolutely  necessary,  —  that  is,  when  one  was  translating. 

"  You  have  a  good  accent,"  he  remarked.  "  Read  this 
passage,  if  you  please." 

He  handed  me  a  volume  of  Racine,  and  I  read  aloud  the 
famous  passage  beginning,  — 

"  A  peine  nous  sortions  des  portes  de  Trezene." 

How  often  I  had  heard  Sacha  repeat  it  to  my  father ! 

"Very  good,  very  good  indeed!"  said  M.  Lapenelle. 
"  You  do  credit  to  the  teaching  of  my  honored  friend  your 
father." 

I  was  deeply  touched  by  these  words  of  commendation. 
After  this,  M.  Lapenelle  asked  us  to  give  him  our  opin- 
ion in  regard  to  this  selection,  and  also  upon  Racine,  his 
contemporaries,  and  French  tragedy  in  general.  Nearly 
all  the  members  of  the  class  took  part  in  the  discussion. 
I  noticed  that  Serge  had  a  rather  heavy,  though  correct 
accent,  and  that  he  knew  much  more  about  the  chro- 
nology of  the  authors  and  their  works  than  any  of  our 
companions. 

From  the  very  beginning  of  the  recitation,  Capiton  had 
pretended  to  be  asleep  .behind  a  book. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  such  peaceful  slumbers,"  re- 
marked M.  Lapenelle,  who  had  not  failed  to  notice  this 
inattention  on  the  part  of  his  pupil,  "  but  Monsieur  Strodt- 
mann  will  please  arouse  himself,  and  delight  our  ears  by 
reading  these  verses." 

He  referred  to  the  scene  between  Pyrrhus  and  Andro- 
mache in  Racine's  tragedy. 

Capiton  took  the  book ;  but  he  rendered  the  lines  in  such 


180  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

a  drawling,  monotonous  tone,  and  with  such  a  strong 
German  accent,  that  there  was  a  general  laugh,  for  all  the 
other  boys  read  French  very  well.  Even  M.  Lapenelle 
could  hardly  repress  a  smile,  and  I  laughed  heartily. 
Capiton  contented  himself  with  casting  furious  glances 
around  him  and  anathematizing  this  beastly  French  tongue, 
-  taking  good  care  that  the  professor  did  not  hear  him, 
however. 

"  Where  did  he  get  that  accent?  "  I  whispered  to  Grichine. 

"  It  runs  in  the  blood.  His  father  is  a  German,"  he 
answered,  laughing.  "  He  is  a  rich  man,  very  rich,"  he 
added.  "  He  had  charge  of  the  property  of  a  wealthy  old 
bachelor  for  a  number  of  years,  and  he  feathered  his  nest 
well,  I  can  tell  you." 

I  soon  became  thoroughly  initiated  into  the  rules  and 
regulations  of  the  institution.  Before  a  week  had  elapsed, 
the  feeling  that  I  was  a  new  comer  had  vanished,  and  I 
had  ceased  to  stand  in  the  slightest  awe  of  my  school- 
mates or  of  my  teachers.  They  were  all,  or  nearly  all, 
good  fellows,  —  I  am  referring  now,  of  course,  to  my  fellow 
students,  —  and  I  soon  became  quite  intimate  with  Krat- 
kine,  whose  sensible,  honest  nature  had  won  my  re- 
spect from  the  very  first.  I  soon  became  familiar,  too, 
with  the  peculiarities  of  each  professor.  M.  Golovetchov 
could  not  teach  unless  he  was  walking  up  and  down  the 
class-room  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back.  His 
eyes  were  always  fixed  upon  a  certain  window-pane ;  if  he 
removed  them,  he  was  sure  to  lose  the  thread  of  his  dis- 
course. M.  Perekoff  was  quite  a  favorite  in  society.  It 
was  said  that  he  dined  out  every  evening,  and  that  he 
was  on  intimate  terms  with  all  the  officials.  M.  Lapenelle 
had  never  been  able  to  accustom  himself  to  our  Russian 


THE  BITER  BITTEN.  l8l 

cookery,  and  "  Nettle  Soup,"  one  of  our  favorite  dishes, 
spoiled  his  appetite  for  a  week.  I  discovered,  too,  that 
our  learned  superintendent  was  goodness  itself,  and  that 
he  was  now  engaged  upon  a  fifteen-volume  work  on  the 
Rings  of  Saturn, — a  work  that  was  destined  to  put  to 
shame  the  achievements  of  all  other  astronomers,  past, 
present,  and  future.  M.  Sarevine  had  the  reputation  of 
being  severe,  but  conscientious  and  just.  In  fact,  all  the 
students,  except  a  few  chronic  grumblers,  spoke  of  our 
instructors  with  affection  and  respect. 

I  also  learned  that  the  dread  tyrant  Gavruchka  was 
rather  too  fond  of  the  bottle,  and  that  undue  indulgence 
in  stimulants  caused  him  to  behold  terrible  visions  that 
frightened  him  nearly  out  of  his  wits. 

This  reminds  me  of  an  incident  that  occurred  shortly 
after  I  entered  the  school,  and  that  enlightened  me  very 
considerably  in  regard  to  Capiton  Strodtmann's  real 
character.  One  cold  winter's  morning  as  we  left  the 
schoolroom,  half  frozen,  we  all,  as  with  one  accord, 
hastened  to  the  little  tool-house  on  the  edge  of  the  pond, 
where  we  kept  our  skates  and  sleds.  It  was  a  tiny  struc- 
ture, built  of  rough  boards,  and  but  dimly  lighted  by  one 
small  window.  As  Grichine,  who  was  leading  the  way, 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  a  lugubrious  moan  was  heard ; 
and  as  the  door  opened,  we  boys,  who  were  following 
closely  upon  Grichine's  heels,  could  hardly  believe  our 
eyes. 

A  boy  was  standing  in  the  farthermost  corner  of  the 
little  hut,  with  his  hands  pressed  tightly  over  his  eyes,  as  if 
to  shut  out  some  hideous  sight.  A  big  hook  in  the  wall 
had  caught  in  the  back  of  his  blouse,  a  little  below  the 
collar,  and  he  was  standing  perfectly  motionless,  as  if 


1 82  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

paralyzed.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  us  in  the  dim  light  that 
it  must  be  a  dead  body  hanging  there. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Grichine,  gazing  at  the  startling 
sight  in  open-mouthed  wonder. 

As  Grichine  spoke,  a  slight  movement  was  perceptible 
in  the  apparently  lifeless  form ;  the  hands  fell  from  the  face, 
and  to  our  intense  astonishment,  we  recognized  Capiton 
Strodtmann,  —  but  good  heavens  !  in  such  a  plight !  His 
hair  was  wildly  disordered,  his  features  were  distorted  with 
fear,  and  traces  of  tears  were  plainly  visible  on  his  cheeks. 

"  Strodtmann ! "  we  all  shouted  in  the  same  breath, 
"  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  here  ?  And  what  are  you 
crying  about,  you  big  booby?  Who  locked  you  up  in 
here?  We  just  got  the  key  from  Gavruchka." 

These  questions  and  a  hundred  others  burst  from  the 
lips  of  the  assembled  crowd. 

Capiton  made  no  reply,  but  stood  there  pale  and  trem- 
bling, gazing  at  us  the  while,  with  an  intensely  bewil- 
dered air. 

A  stentorian  voice,  pealing  out  like  thunder  just  behind 
us,  made  us  start  violently. 

"  Ah,  ha,  Strodtmann,  so  it  is  you  who  amuse  yourself 
by  frightening  honest  people  at  night!  It  is  you  who 
hide  behind  the  wall  in  order  to  pounce  out  upon  them 
and  scare  them  half  to  death!  So  it  is  you,  is  it?  But 
you  Ve  had  a  chance  to  see  how  it  is  yourself  now.  Did 
you  have  a  pleasant  night  of  it,  shut  up  here,  my  fine 
gentleman?" 

These  words  came  from  the  lips  of  Gavruchka,  whose 
face  was  crimson  with  anger,  and  whose  eyes  seemed  to  be 
starting  from  their  sockets.  Strodtmann,  still  suspended 
in  mid  air,  tried  hard  to  compose  himself  and  respond  to 


STRODTMANN'S  EXPERIENCE  IN  THE  TOOL-HOUSE. 


THE  BITER  BITTEN.  185 

the  janitor's  taunts  with  a  contemptuous  glance ;  but  sud- 
denly he  uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  made  such  a  violent 
spring  forward  that  his  blouse  gave  way,  and  he  fell  full 
length  upon  the  ground.  Simultaneously,  a  pretty  white 
rabbit  with  pink  eyes,  long  ears,  and  silky  fur  bounded 
past  Strodtmann's  recumbent  form,  and  seating  itself  in 
the  corner  began  tranquilly  to  stroke  its  face  with  its 
forepaws. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  you?  "  cried  Serge, 
raising  our  fellow  student  rather  roughly  from  the  ground. 
"  What  has  happened?  " 

"  I  felt  it  again  just  now  on  my  foot,"  faltered  Strodt- 
mann.  "  It  is  the  same  cold  thing  that  touched  my  face 
last  night.  It  held  me  against  the  wall  —  with  an  icy 
hand." 

"  Hand  !  "  cried  Grichine,  contemptuously.  "  This  is  too 
rich,  upon  my  word  !  It  was  the  hook  that  held  you,  you 
booby !  You  must  have  gone  and  hung  yourself  on  it. 
It  would  certainly  never  have  come  after  you." 

"  And  here  is  your  ghost !  "  cried  Platon,  darting  after 
the  rabbit,  which  took  refuge  behind  a  pile  of  snowshoes 
and  bats.  After  a  brief  struggle,  Gregorov  re-appeared, 
dusty  and  breathless,  holding  the  innocent  little  quad- 
ruped by  the  ears. 

Shouts  of  laughter  greeted  the  sight  Strodtmann,  hav- 
ing partially  recovered  from  his  fright,  tried  to  speak  with 
some  of  his  wonted  assurance  of  manner. 

"  You  idiots  !  "  he  exclaimed,  endeavoring  to  steady  his 
voice.  "  I  'd  like  to  see  you  spend  a  night  alone  in  this 
confounded  hole,  —  in  a  place  more  lonely  than  —  than  the 
desert  of  Sahara  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Gavruchka,  who  seemed  to  quite  gloat 


186  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

over  the  tortures  the  poor  fellow  must  have  endured; 
"  I  Ve  told  you  all,  more  than  once,  that  this  place  is 
haunted.  Last  night,  when  I  approached  this  hut  while 
quietly  going  my  rounds,  I  heard  a  sepulchral  voice  cry 
out,  '  Gavruchka,  your  end  is  near !  Prepare  to  die, 
Gavruchka,  Gavruchka ! '  I  was  frightened  at  first,  —  any- 
body would  have  been.  And  then  I  saw  this  young 
gentleman's  shadow  in  the  moonlight,  and  knew  it  was  one 
of  you  accursed  boys  trying  to  scare  me.  It  did  n't  take 
me  long  to  grab  him  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  push  him 
into  the  tool-house,  and  turn  the  key  on  him.  And  if  my 
poor  little  rabbit  frightened  the  rascal,  it  must  be  because 
he  had  a  guilty  conscience;  but  for  that,  he  certainly 
would  n't  have  been  almost  scared  to  death  by  a  bit  of  a 
creature  like  this.  " 

As  he  spoke,  Gavruchka  put  his  rabbit  under  his  arm, 
and  went  back  to  his  room. 

How  we  laughed  !  Strodtmann,  still  angry  and  agitated, 
ran  to  the  superintendent  to  declare  he  was  ill ;  and  as  his 
appearance  certainly  seemed  to  corroborate  the  assertion, 
he  was  seen  no  more  that  day.  Gavruchka,  satisfied, 
doubtless,  with  his  revenge,  did  not  mark  him  absent,  so 
the  affair  never  came  to  the  knowledge  of  our  teachers. 
Grichine  often  ran  a  great  risk  of  condign  punishment, 
however,  by  feigning  the  most  abject  terror  whenever  he 
met  Strodtmann.  He  made  his  teeth  chatter  so  violently 
that  one  would  have  supposed  they  were  about  to  drop 
out  of  his  head ;  and  I  think  if  he  had  not  been  of  so  much 
assistance  to  Capiton  (he  writes  all  his  exercises  for  him, 
and  does  not  scruple  to  accept  a  certain  amount  per  week 
for  the  work),  he  would  have  received  a  good  thrashing, 
Strodtmann  being  much  the  larger  and  stronger  of  the 


THE  BITER  BITTEN.  187 

two.  But  that  young  gentleman  can  control  his  temper 
when  expediency  requires  it ;  so  he  bore  Grichine's  jokes 
very  patiently,  though  I  often  wondered  how  such  a  big, 
brawny  fellow  could  allow  himself  to  be  thus  ridiculed 
without  a  word  'of  protest. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

MY  VOCATION   REVEALS   ITSELF  AT  LAST. 

MY  immediate  needs  being  thus  provided  for  (though 
in  a  very  humble  way),  there  was  nothing  to  cause 
me  much  anxiety  except  matters  connected  with  my 
school  life.  Foremost  among  these  was  a  fear  that  I 
might  not  be  able  to  maintain  my  place  in  the  first  division 
of  my  class.  I  should  have  felt  terribly  humiliated  if  I 
had  been  obliged  to  go  back  into  the  second  section.  It 
cost  me  a  great  effort  to  keep  up  with  my  class,  however. 
I  was  not  only  lamentably  deficient  in  many  of  my  studies, 
but  my  present  life  of  close  confinement  and  assiduous 
study  was  unspeakably  irksome  to  me.  While  seated  at 
my  desk,  I  often  thought  of  the  vast,  lonely  plain  extend- 
ing on  and  on  until  it  was  merged  into  the  gray  sky  above 
it.  At  such  times  my  brain  reeled,  and  a  wild  longing 
for  liberty  and  fresh  air  took  possession  of  me.  The 
present  was  forgotten ;  I  even  listened  with  bated  breath, 
hoping  to  catch  the  sounds  so  familiar  to  me  in  days  gone 
by.  Again  I  heard  the  wind  sighing  through  the  lofty  trees, 
and  saw  fantastically  shaped  clouds  chasing,  one  another 
swiftly  across  the  sky ;  once  more  I  inhaled  the  sweet,  fresh 
odors  of  the  country  air;  and  when  my  teacher's  voice 
awakened  me  from  this  delightful  dream,  it  was  with  a 
strange  sinking  of  heart  that  I  returned  to  the  grim  reali- 


MY  VOCATION  REVEALS  ITSELF  AT  LAST.  189 

ties  of  life.  Sometimes  I  could  hardly  believe  that  I  was 
the  Dmitri  of  former  days,  —  everything  around  me  was  so 
different;  I  was  surrounded  by  strange  faces;  all  my 
former  friends  and  acquaintances  were  far  away,  and  this 
great  city — how  grim  and  oppressive  it  seemed  in  com- 
parison with  my  native  village !  The  very  air  seemed  op- 
pressive ;  I  fancied  that  it  had  been  frightfully  tainted  by  the 
thousands  of  lungs  that  had  inhaled  it  before  I  did,  and 
absurd  as  the  idea  was,  it  caused  me  positive  suffering. 
Weird,  unfamiliar  melodies  continued  to  haunt  my  brain 
as  in  the  olden  time,  but  they  were  so  sad  now  that  they 
often  brought  tears  to  my  eyes. 

My  only  consolation  was  my  long  rambles  through  the 
surrounding  country  on  half  holidays ;  but  even  there  the 
air  seemed  close  and  insipid  in  comparison  with  that  of 
my  birthplace. 

I  had  not  become  intimate  with  any  of  my  schoolmates 
except  Serge ;  and  though  he  had  often  invited  me  to  his 
house,  I  had  always  refused  to  go.  As  for  Strodtmann, 
my  relations  with  him  remained  unchanged.  The  aversion 
I  had  felt  toward  him  from  the  very  first  increased  rather 
than  diminished,  and  we  rarely  spoke  except  to  inter- 
change those  slighting  remarks  which  are  sure  to  end  in  an 
open  rupture  sooner  or  later. 

When  he  had  occasion  to  speak  of  me,  he  always  styled 
me  "  The  Peasant,"  or  "  The  Ragged  Duke,"  —  a  delicate 
allusion  to  my  extremely  limited  wardrobe.  Capiton,  who 
was  always  fashionably  and  expensively  dressed,  pretended 
to  consider  it  a  crime  for  a  person  to  wear  a  shabby  gar- 
ment ;  but  chancing  to  be  near  him  on  several  occasions,  I 
could  see  that  his  stiffly  starched  collar  encircled  a  neck  of 
doubtful  cleanliness,  and  that  his  ears  were  not  above  sus- 


190  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

picion.  In  short,  it  was  very  evident  that  soap  and  water 
did  not  occupy  a  prominent  place  on  his  toilet-table;  and 
though  his  hair  was  always  well  pomaded,  his  long,  pointed 
finger-nails  were  generally  dirty,  and  his  hands  rarely 
clean. 

I  noticed,  too,  that  Strodtmann,  though  he  boasted  a 
good  deal  of  his  strength,  was  not  inclined  to  select 
opponents  of  his  own  size  either  in  his  sports,  or  in  the 
real  or  pretended  fights  so  common  among  schoolboys.  I 
myself  would  have  been  very  glad  to  settle  the  unpleasant- 
ness between  us  once  for  all ;  but  Capiton  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  all  my  invitations,  so  the  state  of  affairs  remained 
unchanged,  though  a  firm  conviction  that  my  boastful 
fellow-student  was  a  coward  finally  took  possession  of  my 
mind. 

I  found  plenty  to  occupy  me  at  home,  independent  of 
my  studies.  Early  every  morning  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky 
climbed  to  my  little  attic-room,  and  pulled  me  out  of  bed. 

"  Get  up,  lazybones,  and  take  your  lesson,"  was  the  ex- 
clamation that  aroused  me  at  daybreak  every  morning. 

He  hardly  gave  me  time  to  dress,  and  explained  the 
principles  of  music  to  me  until  school-time  with  intense 
earnestness  and  enthusiasm.  It  was  evident  that  music 
was  the  one  thing  in  the  world  worth  living  for  in  his 
opinion,  and  he  saw  the  principles  of  harmony  in  each  one 
of  the  different  laws  that  govern  the  universe. 

I  was  gradually  learning  to  understand  some  of  the 
secrets  of  musical  composition.  He  made  the  works  of  all 
the  great  composers  an  open  book  to  me ;  he  familiarized 
me  with  their  methods;  he  taught  me  to  appreciate 
Mozart's  wonderful  orchestration,  —  how  cleverly  he  made 
use  of  each  different  instrument,  how  delicately  he  brought 


MY  VOCATION  REVEALS  ITSELF  AT  LAST.  191 

out  the  peculiar  merits  of  each.  Through  him  I  came  to 
love  the  modern  composers  as  well  as  the  composers  of 
former  times ;  and  how  often,  while  studying  the  composi- 
tions of  Berlioz,  Wagner,  and  Massenet,  I  felt  that  I  was 
transported  into  another  world ! 

Sometimes,  when  I  had  not  annoyed  my  instructor  too 
much  by  my  stupidity,  he  would  take  up  his  violin,  or  seat 
himself  at  the  piano,  and  charm  my  ears  with  some  divine 
melody.  He  knew  that  I  was  an  appreciative  listener,  and 
he  played  on  and  on  for  this  humble  boy  as  no  one  ever 
played  before. 

Such  treats  were  rare,  however,  though  I  did  my  best  to 
please  him ;  but  too  often  I  incensed  him  by  my  dulness. 
At  such  times,  he  rapped  my  fingers  pitilessly  with  his 
bow ;  and  I  should  probably  have  rebelled  but  for  the  min- 
gled reverence  and  pity  which  this  highly  gifted  but  unfor- 
tunate man  had  inspired  in  my  heart.  Quite  often,  too,  I 
had  to  listen  to  furious  tirades  against  human  ingratitude, 
when  I  failed  instantly  to  understand  explanations  which 
were  given  with  a  violence  that  rendered  their  meaning  all 
the  more  obscure ;  but  I  loved  him  in  spite  of  his  pecu- 
liarities, for  he  possessed  a  nobility  of  character  and  a  sin- 
cerity that  could  not  fail  to  impress  one.  As  for  him,  I 
believe  he  entertained  a  profound  affection  for  me,  though 
he  never  gave  any  outward  manifestation  of  it. 

Our  singing  lessons  were  gradually  transformed  into 
lessons  in  harmony. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  making  you  a  coxcomb  who  will 
strut  about  the  stage  merely  to  show  himself,"  he  growled 
one  day. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  be,"  I  replied  curtly.  "  I  intend 
to  be  a  composer,  like  yourself." 


192  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

The  maestro  had  copied  with  his  own  hand,  and  hung  in 
my  room,  a  number  of  Schumann's  precepts,  which  he 
required  me  to  recite  to  him  every  morning. 

"  The  education  of  the  ear  is  the  main  thing.  Compel  yourself 
from  the  very  first  to  distinguish  the  major  and  minor  keys  and 
each  different  note.  The  bell,  the  tap  upon  the  window-pane, 
the  clock,  —  try  to  observe  the  sounds  they  give. 

"  There  are  people  who  imagine  they  can  accomplish  anything 
if  their  fingers  are  supple  and  dexterous,  and  who  devote  several 
hours  a  day  all  their  lives  to  mechanical  exercises.  This  is  the 
same  thing  as  if  a  man  forced  himself  to  repeat  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet  more  and  more  rapidly  every  day.  Employ  your  time 
more  profitably. 

"  As  regards  time,  the  playing  of  many  musicians  reminds  one 
of  the  gait  of  a  drunken  man.  Guard  against  taking  such 
performers  as  models. 

"  Always  play  as  if  a  master  were  listening  to  you. 

"  Never  play  a  piece  without  having  read  it  over  carefully 
beforehand. 

"  Never  play  poor  music.  Never  even  listen  to  it  unless  com- 
pelled to  do  so. 

"  You  must  not  only  have  your  piece  at  your  fingers'-ends,  but 
be  able  to  hum  it  without  the  instrument. 

"  Never  play  the  light,  ephemeral  music  of  the  day.  Time  is 
too  precious.  A  man  would  have  to  live  a  hundred  lives  to 
master  only  that  which  is  good. 

"  Consider  it  a  heinous  offence  to  change,  omit  anything  in,  or 
introduce  any  new  ornamentation  into,  the  music  of  good  com- 
posers. It  is  the  worst  outrage  you  can  commit  against  art. 

"  Choose  for  your  associates  persons  who  know  more  than 
you  do." 

Though  he  paid   very  little  attention  to  such  matters 


MY  VOCATION  REVEALS  ITSELF  AT  LAST.  193 

(he  himself  lived  as  frugally  as  a  hermit  in  the  desert),  he 
must  have  noticed  that  I  was  growing  thinner  as  I  grew 
taller;  for  after  my  room-rent  was  paid,  my  pittance  of 
three  roubles  a  month  barely  sufficed  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together. 

"  I  have  found  you  some  work,"  he  said  to  me  one  day. 
"  You  boys  think  of  nothing  but  eating  and  drinking.  Go 
to  Naboth,  the  son  of  Isaac,  on  the  Slaviahski  Percoulak. 
He  is  the  biggest  thief  in  Moscow,  but  he  will  give  you 
something  to  satisfy  your  gluttony." 

I  did  not  thank  him,  for  he  had  a  horror  of  anything 
that  resembled  a  compliment ;  but  after  school  I  hastened 
to  the  Slavianski  Percoulak,  —  a  dark,  narrow  street  not 
very  far  from  my  lodgings. 

Naboth,  the  son  of  Isaac,  proved  to  be  a  little,  old,  jaun- 
diced, crooked  man,  who  wanted  me  to  copy  some  music 
for  him  at  the  rate  of  a  kopeck  a  page.  The  compensation 
was  so  small  that  I  protested ;  and  after  a  good  deal  of 
parleying,  Naboth  finally  consented  to  furnish  the  paper. 
I  then  learned  that  he  expected  me  to  cover  both  sides  of 
the  page  for  the  munificent  sum  of  one  kopeck.  I  spoke 
my  mind,  however,  to  such  good  purpose,  that  he  at  last 
agreed  to  pay  me  a  kopeck  for  the  upper  as  well  as  the 
lower  side  of  the  sheet.  By  working  like  a  galley-slave, 
I  succeeded  in  earning  a  grievenik  or  two  a  week;  but 
even  that  was  not  to  be  despised  that  hard  winter. 

I  copied  the  different  parts  for  the  orchestra  of  one  of 
the  leading  theatres,  and  the  work  soon  began  to  interest 
me  very  much. 

"  An  opera  must  be  beautiful,"  I  remarked  one  evening. 

"Have  you  never  been  to  the  theatre?"  asked  the 
maestro. 

13 


194  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  No." 

"  Well,  here  is  a  ticket  for  this  evening's  performance ; 
but  don't  tell  me  anything  about  the  fools  you  will  hear 
there.  You  will  see  a  set  of  squalling  women  and  idiotic 
tenors  raising  themselves  on  the  tips  of  their  toes  in  order 
to  screech  the  louder.  You  '11  think  all  this  delightful, 
though,  so  clear  out !  " 

I  needed  no  urging.  In  a  few  moments  I  was  seated  in 
the  theatre.  The  opera  to  be  given  that  evening  was 
Gounod's  "  Faust." 

When  the  first  strains  of  the  enchanting  overture  re- 
sounded through  the  hall,  I  sat  as  if  petrified.  Never  had 
my  imagination  in  its  wildest  flights  conceived  of  anything 
like  this.  Tears  sprang  to  my  eyes ;  I  could  see  only  as 
through  a  mist.  The  many  instruments  seemed  the  ma- 
jestic voice  of  a  divine  being.  I  listened  with  breathless 
eagerness.  The  curtain  rose.  I  beheld  Faust;  a  rich, 
mellow  voice  was  heard  in  melancholy  invocation ;  the  far- 
off  song  of  the  villagers  died  away  in  the  distance ;  then, 
Mephistopheles  appeared  with  his  cutting  sarcasms ;  I 
shuddered  with  Faust,  —  with  him,  too,  I  trembled  at  the 
vision  of  Marguerite. 

After  that  everything  was  one  ecstatic  dream.  A 
famous  foreign  cantatrice  sang.  Her  voice  of  flute-like 
purity  penetrated  to  the  inmost  depths  of  my  soul.  I 
longed  to  listen  to  her  forever,  to  create  for  this  angelic 
voice  melodies  worthy  of  it.  In  the  depths  of  the  little 
stall  which  I  occupied  alone,  the  tears  streamed  down  upon 
my  clasped  hands,  and  I  murmured  again  and  again  like 
one  bereft  of  reason,  "  I,  too,  am  a  musician ;  I,  too,  am 
a  musician  !  I,  too,  must  compose  music,  or  I  shall  die !  " 

When  the  performance  ended  amid    the    frenzied    ap- 


MY  VOCATION  REVEALS  ITSELF  AT  LAST.  195 

plause  of  the  audience  and  a  shower  of  costly  exotics 
lavished  upon  the  idol  of  the  hour,  I  was  so  intoxicated 
with  delight  that  I  wonder  I  did  not  throw  myself  on  the 
stage  in  my  enthusiasm.  I  left  the  theatre  without  even 
knowing  it,  and  roamed  about  the  streets  most  of  the 
night.  It  was  not  until  the  first  gray  light  of  dawn  ap- 
peared in  the  east  that  I  returned  to  my  little  attic-room, 
and  threw  myself  on  the  bed  to  dream  on  and  on  with 
wildly  staring  eyes. 

A  thousand  vague  fancies  tumultuously  crowded  my 
brain.  All  those  voices  which  were  ever  murmuring  and 
sighing,  and  singing  and  wailing  in  my  ears  —  I  would  un- 
prison  them ;  I  would  give  them  form,  make  them  audible 
to  others  as  well  as  to  myself.  What  I,  too,  would  write 
would  also  delight  the  world  long  after  my  hand  had 
crumbled  into  dust;  and  perhaps  some  day,  while  listening 
to  the  melody  I  had  created  out  of  nought,  some  human 
being  would  bless  the  day  when  Dmitri  Terentieff  came 
into*  the  world. 

Oh,  how  assiduously  I  would  study  now !  How  thor- 
oughly I  would  master  the  rules  that  had  seemed  so 
difficult  and  tiresome  before !  for  I  was  resolved  that  my 
music  should  be  correct ;  I  would  not  allow  myself  to  write 
until  I  was  sure  of  myself. 

The  rough  outlines  of  a  musical  composition  were 
already  formed  in  my  mind.  I  would  call  it  "  The 
Steppes."  It  would  be  a  pastoral,  a  Russian  pastoral. 
In  it  should  be  depicted  the  peacefulness  of  our  long 
winter  days.  One  should  hear  the  whistling  of  the 
wind,  the  shrill  cry  of  the  wild-fowl ;  then  the  soft  rus- 
tling of  the  spring  foliage ;  the  weird,  wild  songs  of  our 
peasants,  the  gallop  of  wild  horses  in  the  distance,  and 


196  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

high  above  all  the  wind,  —  the  now  tempestuous,  now 
gentle,  wind  of  our  plains,  which  so  often  haunted  my 
dreams  with  its  strange,  wild  harmony. 

I  seized  a  sheet  of  music  paper,  — it  belonged  to  Naboth, 
but  I  did  not  even  think  of  that,  —  and  began  to  write  with 
feverish  haste.  I  forgot  where  I  was,  and  was  writing  like 
a  madman,  when  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  Nepomuk 
Raabzinsky  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing  this  morning?"  he 
exclaimed.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  Ve  become  deaf?  " 

"I  —  I  did  not  hear  you,"  I  replied,  hastily  concealing 
my  paper  under  a  pile  of  note-books. 

"  Is  this  a  holiday?  " 

"No.     Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  Because  it 's  after  ten  o'clock,  and  here  you  sit  doing 
nothing !  " 

I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  dismay,  and  seizing  my  cap, 
ran  at  the  top  of  my  speed  to  the  Gymnasium.  I  rapped 
at  the  little  door,  —  the  large  doors  were  closed  at  this  hour 
of  the  day,  —  and  the  bearded  face  of  Gavruchka  appeared. 

"  I  forgot  myself  this  morning,"  I  panted.  "  Will  you 
let  me  in  so  I  can  make  my  excuses  to  the  assistant 
superintendent?  " 

"  Ah,  ha  !  my  little  Terentieff,  so  you  Ve  got  caught  at 
last !  "  sneered  the  janitor,  with  savage  glee.  "  Let  you  in? 
Not  if  I  know  myself.  See,  there  's  your  name  on  the  tardy 
list.  Two  more  escapades  of  this  kind,  and  we  '11  be  well 
rid  of  you.  Clear  out  now,  clear  out,  you  young  rascal !  " 

And  still  sneering,  he  slammed  the  door  in  my  face. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  the  schoolroom  that  afternoon  I 
was  summoned  into  the  presence  of  M.  SareVine,  who 
questioned  me  closely  as  to  the  cause  of  my  absence 


DMITRI   DEEP   IN   HIS    MUSICAL    STUDIES. 


MY  VOCATION  REVEALS  ITSELF  AT  LAST.  199 

that  morning.  I  would  not  have  told  him  the  true  reason 
for  anything  in  the  world,  so  I  merely  gave  as  an  excuse 
that  I  had  failed  to  notice  the  time. 

The  assistant  superintendent  did  not  seem  at  all  satisfied 
with  this  reason.  He  told  me  rather  sternly  that  I  must 
have  a  better  excuse  to  offer  in  future,  and  reminded  me 
that  a  third  violation  of  the  rule  would  result  in  my  expul- 
sion. I  withdrew;  and  for  a  long  time  afterward  Gav- 
ruchka  was  in  the  habit  of  sneering  as  I  passed  in  and  out, 
and  of  exclaiming,  — 

"  Only  twice  more,  Terentieff !  only  twice  more  !  and  then 
you  '11  be  turned  out,  —  turned  out  of  Saint- Vladimir !  " 

The  idea  seemed  to  cause  him  infinite  satisfaction. 

From  that  day  a  two-fold  existence  began  for  me.  Out- 
wardly I  was  unchanged.  I  came  and  went  as  before.  I 
prepared  my  translations,  wrote  exercises,  solved  problems 
in  algebra  and  geometry,  committed  lessons  to  memory, 
interchanged  more  or  less  cutting  taunts  with  Capiton 
Strodtmann,  and  talked  with  Serge  about  everything  but 
the  subject  uppermost  in  my  mind;  but  I  did  all  these 
things  with  strains  of  sweetest  music  ever  ringing  in  my 
ears.  My  body  was  there,  but  my  soul  was  far  away, 
floating  lightly  upon  the  sea  of  melody  that  floods  the  en- 
tire world  for  those  who  have  ears  to  hear  it.  I  followed 
this  secret  melody  untiringly;  I  noted  the  sound  of  the 
wind  and  rain,  the  fall  of  the  snow,  the  voices  of  men  and 
of  animals ;  all  around  me  I  heard  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

My  craving  for  music  had  become  so  intense  that  I 
spent  every  penny  I  could  spare  in  attending  the  opera  or 
concerts.  How  I  blessed  my  student's  cap,  that  secured 
me  admission  to  such  places  of  entertainment  at  one-fourth 
of  the  reeular  rates ! 


200  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  became  familiar  with  the  masterpieces  of  many  great 
composers  that  winter,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  listening  to 
many  famous  musicians.  Once  it  was  Rubenstein.  After 
the  concert,  the  young  men  harnessed  themselves  to  his 
carriage  to  drag  him  home.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I 
was  one  of  the  first  to  volunteer. 

I  did  not  dare  to  confide  my  secret  to  Nepomuk  Raab- 
zinsky.  I  feared  his  stinging  ridicule  and  sneers  too 
much ;  besides,  he  pretended  rather  to  despise  our  national 
music,  and  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to  show  him  what  I  had 
written  until  it  would  furnish  less  food  for  criticism. 

I,  on  the  contrary,  greatly  admired  the  productions  of 
our  native  composers,  for  they  seemed  so  deeply  imbued 
with  the  very  spirit  of  our  country,  climate,  and  people. 
Our  music  differs  from  that  of  other  nations  unquestion- 
ably; it  is  less  scientific  perhaps;  but  it  possesses  a  pecu- 
liar charm  of  its  own,  and  is  remarkably  original  in  its 
character.  Indeed,  its  individuality  is  so  marked  that  it 
can  hardly  fail  to  astonish  foreigners,  and  incur  a  great 
risk  of  being  entirely  misunderstood.  But  what  does  that 
matter?  —  we  Russians  comprehend  it;  and  my  sole  am- 
bition, then  and  now,  is  to  win  a  place  among  the  famous 
composers  of  my  native  land. 

But  in  the  midst  of  these  delightful  dreams,  I  became 
painfully  conscious  that  the  year's  schooling  for  which 
Nicholas  Ivanovitch  had  paid  in  advance  would  soon  expire, 
and  how  was  I  to  continue  my  course  of  study?  I  cer- 
tainly could  not  hope  to  do  so  on  my  present  earnings.  I 
resolved  to  consult  Serge,  who  was  an  eminently  practical 
and  sensible  fellow,  and  who  might  be  able  to  suggest  some 
feasible  plan. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A  SURPRISE. 

ON  leaving  the  class-room  the  following  morning  I 
took  Serge  aside. 

"I  want  to  consult  you,"  I  said,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  About  what  ?  " 

"About  something  that  will  surprise  you  perhaps.  Do 
you  think  it  would  be  possible  for  a  boy  of  my  age  to 
earn  a  tolerably  large  amount  every  month  ?  " 

Serge  reflected  a  moment  before  he  replied. 

"That  depends,"  he  replied,  at  last.  "The  boy's  posi- 
tion in  life  would  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it.  If  he 
belongs  to  the  working  class,  I  not  only  think,  but  know, 
that  he  could  earn  his  living.  As  for  a  large  amount  of 
money  —  " 

"But  that  is  not  the  question,"  I  interrupted.  "To 
speak  frankly,  I  am  the  person  referred  to.  Do  you 
think  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  earn,  not  enough  to 
pay  for  my  food,  —  I  am  doing  that  now,  — but  to  pay  my 
tuition  at  the  Gymnasium  as  well  ?  " 

"You  seem  surprised,"  I  continued.  "You  can  hardly 
have  supposed  that  I  am  a  Croesus  "  (casting  a  glance  at 
my  shabby  garments),  "but  you  probably  have  no  idea 
how  little  I  possess, — simply  nothing." 


202  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"But  you've  attended  school  up  to  this  time,"  began 
Serge,  "  and  —  " 

I  gave  him  a  brief  account  of  my  former  life  and  of 
the  situation  in  which  I  found  myself  on  my  arrival  in 
Moscow. 

"What!  is  it  possible  tWat  you  are  the  young  Dmitri 
mentioned  in  poor  M.  Berezoff's  will?  "  exclaimed  Serge, 
who  had  listened  to  my  story  with  evident  interest. 

"  I  cannot  doubt  it. " 

"That  explains  the  mystery,"  remarked  Serge,  thought- 
fully. "  Do  you  know  why  Strodtmann  hates  you,  —  for 
it  is  evident  that  he  does  hate  you  ?  " 

"No,  upon  my  word!  I  have  never  been  able  to  ex- 
plain his  animosity." 

"Well,  I  think  I  understand  it  now  I  know  who  you 
are.  Of  course  you  are  not  aware  that  Strodtmann' s 
father  —  a  German,  who  married  a  Russian  wife  —  was 
for  a  long  time  the  manager  of  M.  Ber6zoff's  large  estates. 
Nicholas  Ivanovitch  was  one  of  the  most  kind-hearted  of 
men,  and  seemed- — especially  after  the  loss  of  his  brother 
—  to  be  greatly  attached  to  young  Strodtmann,  who  was 
born  in  M.  Bere"zoff's  house  while  his  father  was  living 
there.  In  fact,  it  was  generally  supposed  that  he  would 
make  him  his  heir,  and  I  believe  Capiton  grew  up  in  this 
belief.  M.  Ber^zoff  having  died  without  a  will,  he  in- 
herited nothing.  Now,  I  reason  in  this  way :  Strodtmann 
considered  himself  M.  Berezoff's  heir,  so  he  regards  you 
as  the  cause  of  his  disappointment,  though  you  derived  no 
benefit  from  it;  consequently  he  hates  you,  and  shows 
his  hatred  on  all  occasions." 

"  Oh,  do  you  really  think  such  a  thing  is  possible  ?  "  I 
exclaimed,  greatly  agitated. 


A  SURPRISE.  203 

"Very  possible,  especially  when  one  knows  the  person." 

"  But  I  am  in  no  way  accountable  for  his  disappoint- 
ment. " 

"No,  but  he  cannot  forgive  you  for  having  uncon- 
sciously frustrated  his  hopes.  You  may  believe  what  I 
say.  I  know  Capiton.  We  have  been  schoolmates  all 
our  lives,  and  I  understand  his  disposition  perfectly. 
But  you  must  come  and  see  my  father.  He  is  sure  to 
take  an  interest  in  you  if  you  tell  him  your  story,  for 
M.  Ber^zoff  was  one  of  his  best  friends.  So  forget  your 
bashfulness,  and  come  home  with  me.  I  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  you." 

I  shrank  from  the  idea  of  presenting  myself  at  M. 
Kratkine's  house,  but  finally  allowed  myself  to  be  per- 
suaded, and  accompanied  Serge  to  his  pleasant  home. 

M.  Kratkine  was  evidently  an  extremely  practical  man. 
He  perceived  all  the  pros  and  cons  of  a  question  at  a 
glance;  but  the  most  prominent  trait  in  his  character 
seemed  to  be  determination.  His  mind  once  made  up, 
he  was  resolved  to  reach  the  goal  at  any  cost ;  and  when 
Serge  introduced  me  to  him,  I  no  longer  marvelled  at 
the  forty  examinations.  Neither  forty  examinations,  nor 
a  hundred,  nor  a  thousand,  would  induce  Arcade  Pan- 
lovitch  Kratkine  to  deviate  one  hair's  breadth  from  the 
path  he  had  marked  out  for  himself. 

M.  Kratkine  received  me  very  kindly,  and  was  good 
enough  to  devote  several  minutes  of  his  valuable  time  to 
the  consideration  of  my  case,  when  Serge  explained  it  to 
him. 

"There  is  but  one  way  out  of  the  difficulty,"  he  re- 
marked at  last,  —  "  Dmitri  Fedorovitch  must  be  allowed 
to  finish  his  course  of  study  at  the  Gymnasium  free  of 
charge. " 


204  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"Do  you  mean  a  scholarship,  sir?"  I  stammered.  "I 
fear  I  am  not  prepared  —  " 

"Then  you  must  prepare  yourself,"  said  M.  Kratkine, 
in  a  tone  that  admitted  of  no  reply.  "  I  am  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  the  superintendent,  Ivan  Alexandro- 
vitch  Perevsky.  I  will  take  all  the  steps  necessary,  and 
it  will  be  an  easy  matter  to  secure  such  a  favor  for  the 
son  of  Terentieff.  His  name  is  sufficient  recommenda- 
tion. You  must  not  spare  yourself,  but  work  hard  and 
gain  a  good  stand  in  your  class.  I  am  sure  Serge  will 
take  pleasure  in  assisting  you,  if  necessary.  He  has 
often  spoken  of  you  before,  and  always  in  the  highest 
terms.  Now,  boys,  I  must  get  to  work,  so  au  revoir. 
Dmitri  F6dorovitch,  you  have  learned  the  way  here  now; 
you  must  not  forget  it.  No  dawdling  now,  Serge.  You 
know  you  have  a  Greek  exercise  to  prepare  for  to-morrow, 
and  Greek  is  not  your  forte." 

We  left  the  study,  and  I  thanked  Serge  for  having  in- 
troduced me  to  his  father,  though  I  was  overwhelmed  at 
the  thought  of  the  ordeal  before  me.  And  my  music? 
Should  I  be  obliged  to  give  that  up?  The  mere  idea  of 
such  a  sacrifice  appalled  me ;  but  I  determined  to  keep  up 
a  brave  heart,  and  leaving  my  schoolmate  to  struggle  with 
his  Greek,  I  turned  my  steps  homeward,  secretly  resolved 
to  conquer.  Arcade  Panlovitch's  good  intentions  must 
not  be  frustrated  by  my  stupidity. 

I  was  obliged  to  pass  the  Gymnasium  on  my  way  Home, 
and  as  I  was  crossing  the  square  with  my  hands  in  my 
pocket,  my  head  well  up  in  the  air,  and  my  books  under 
my  arm,  I  was  almost  knocked  down  by  an  enormous  dog 
that  bounded  suddenly  out  upon  me,  barking  and  wag- 
ging his  tail  in  the  most  frantic  manner,  and  licking  my 
face  with  his  long  red  tongue. 


DMITRI'S  MEETING  WITH  SNAP  AND  PORPHYRE. 


A  SURPRISE.  207 

Words  can  scarcely  describe  the  astonishment  I  felt 
when  I  recognized  in  this  half-frenzied  animal  my  good 
dog  Snap,  —  Snap,  draggled  and  muddy  and  emaciated, 
but  yet  the  same  dear  old  Snap,  the  most  faithful,  affec- 
tionate, and  demonstrative  of  dogs  and  friends. 

"  Snap,  my  good  dog,  my  brave  comrade,  is  it  really 
you  ?  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  How  glad  I  am  to  see 
you  again!  But  how  came  you  here ?"  I  cried,  covering 
him  with  caresses,  while  my  cap  fell  to  the  ground  on  one 
side  of  me,  and  my  pile  of  books  on  the  other. 

As  if  to  answer  my  question,  Snap  relaxed  his  hold  and 
darted  toward  the  main  entrance  of  the  Gymnasium.  It 
was  nearly  dark;  but  in  the  dim  light  I  faintly  discerned 
a  human  form  crouching  on  the  step,  and  rushing  toward 
it,  I  beheld  —  Porphyre,  —  Porphyre  thin,  gaunt,  and  in 
rags,  with  no  trace  of  the  rosy  cheeks  and  majestic  pro- 
portions of  former  days,  but  Porphyre,  unquestionably. 

I  remained  mute  with  astonishment  for  a  moment,  then 
recovering  my  powers  of  speech,  exclaimed,  — 

"You  here!  why,  all  Sitovka  must  have  decided  to  visit 
Moscow  this  evening.  How  are  you  ?  Is  your  father  here 
too  ?  It  was  certainly  very  kind  in  you  to  bring  Snap. 
How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  old  fellow !  But  you  don't 
look  like  yourself.  What  is  the  matter;  are  you  ill?  " 

For  Porphyre  did  not  attempt  to  answer  a  single  one  of 
my  questions,  but  gazed  at  me  with  a  half-dazed  expres- 
sion, and  seemed  to  have  considerable  difficulty  in  hold- 
ing himself  up. 

"I  'm  not  ill,"  he  at  last  said  feebly,  as  if  his  parched 
lips  would  hardly  allow  him  to  speak;  "I  'm  hungry." 

I  fumbled  in  my  pocket,  and  finding  a  few  kopecks, 
dragged  Porphyre  to  a  little  shop  near  by,  where  I  or- 


208  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

dered  some  rolls,  a  bit  of  cheese,  and  a  big  glass  of  beer 
for  him.  Snap,  too,  having  shown  unmistakable  signs  of 
hunger,  I  bought  a  plate  of  bones  and  broken  pieces  for 
him.  He  devoured  these  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye ;  and 
the  two  pilgrims  having  been  thus  refreshed,  we  left  the 
shop. 

"  Now  do  tell  me  where  you  dropped  from  ? "  I  cried 
eagerly.  . 

Porphyre  cast  a  wondering  glance  around  him. 

"  Yes,  I '  m  here  at  last,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  profound 
conviction. 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  are ;  but  how  is  it  that  you  happen  to 
be  here  ?  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"From  Sitovka,  of  course!." 

"How  stupid  you  are!  Of  course  you  came  from  Sit- 
ovka, but  how  did  you  come,  and  why?  Did  Agathon 
Illarionovitch  bring  you?" 

"  No,  it  was  Snap. " 

"Snap?" 

"  Yes.  You  see  he  has  done  nothing  but  run  away  ever 
since  you  left.  The  first  time  we  caught  him  and  shut 
him  up  in  the  chicken-yard,  though  he  scared  the  hens 
nearly  to  death ;  but  he  jumped  over  the  fence  and  ran  off 
again.  We  caught  him  and  chained  him,  but  he  broke 
the  chain  and  escaped  again.  We  caught  him  this  time, 
too,  and  shut  him  up  in  the  stable ;  but  he  would  neither 
eat  nor  drink.  He  cried  and  howled  incessantly,  day  and 
night.  At  last  somebody  left  the  stable  door  open,  and 
again  he  broke  loose  and  ran  away.  I  started  off  in  pur- 
suit of  him,  and  as  I  'd  been  just  as  miserable  as  he  ever 
since  you  and  Sacha  went  away  —  it  gave  me  the  horrors 
to  see  your  house  all  shut  up  —  when  I  found  him  at  last, 


A  SURPRISE.  209 

and  he  looked  at  me  imploringly,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Do 
come  with  me,'  I  couldn't  refuse  him;  so  here  I  am." 

"  Why,  Porphyre,  I  had  no  idea  you  cared  so  much  for 
me  as  all  that !  "  I  cried,  deeply  touched.  "  But  what  will 
your  father  and  mother  say?  Did  you  come  on  foot?  " 

"  How  else  could  I  have  come  ?  I  walked  every  step 
of  the  way,  —  and  a  long  way  it  is  from  Sitovka  here,  I 
can  tell  you." 

"  But  how  did  you  manage  about  food  ?  " 

Porphyre  gave  an  eloquent  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  It  was  pretty  poor  picking, —  but  here  I  am,"  he  added 
with  evident  complacency. 

"  Have  you  come  to  stay  ?" 

"Of  course.  Do  you  suppose  I've  any  idea  of  tramp- 
ing back  again  ? " 

"But,  my  good  fellow,  don't  you  know  that  I  haven't  a 
penny  I  can  call  my  own  ?  I  can  hardly  offer  you  a  place 
to  lay  your  head.  I  really  have  no  idea  what  I  am  going 
to  do  with  you,"  I  exclaimed  in  profound  dismay. 

Porphyre  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Nonsense!  we'll  manage  somehow  or  other,"  he  re- 
plied philosophically.  "You're  glad  to  see  us,  eh?"  he 
added  confidently. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  I  exclaimed,  in  all  sincerity.  "  In  fact,  I 
never  thought  I  should  be  half  so  glad  to  see  you  again, 
old  scariip!"  (giving  him  a  friendly  poke  in  the  ribs); 
"  but  if  you  fancy  that  partridges  drop  down  from  the  sky 
here  already  roasted,  you  're  very  much  mistaken.  And 
Snap  eats  as  much  as  any  two  men.  I  've  no  idea  what 
I  shall  do  about  it,  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  have!  " 

"Isn't  Sacha  with  you ?"  inquired  Porphyre,  with  un- 
ruffled calmness. 

14 


2IO-  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"Sacha  with  me?  I  don't  even  know  whether  she's 
in  Russia  or  not." 

"Vodka's  become  lame,"  continued  Porphyre,  compos- 
edly. "  They  put  too  much  of  a  load  on  the  wagon  one 
day,  and  he  fell  down.  He  would  n't  even  try  to  get  up. 
I  seated  myself  on  his  head  to  keep  him  from  kicking,  and 
he  bit  me.  He  's  a  hateful  beast." 

"Poor  Vodka!  I'm  surprised  you  didn't  bring  him 
too." 

"  I  really  believe  I  would  if  I  had  thought  of  it,"  replied 
Porphyre,  in  such  perfect  good  faith  that  I  couldn't  help 
laughing  in  his  face. 

"Well,  we  had  better  go  home  now  and  go  to  bed. 
To-morrow  we  '11  talk  matters  over,  and  see  what  is  to  be 
done." 

"  I  '11  go  to  the  Gymnasium  with  you,  if  you  wish,"  said 
Porphyre,  with  an  air  of  profound  resignation. 

"  You  flatter  yourself  that  they  would  be  only  too  de- 
lighted to  have  you,  I  suppose,"  I  retorted,  with  an  irony 
that  was  entirely  lost  upon  him. 

I  conducted  my  two  unexpected  guests  to  my  humble 
garret ;  and  Porphyre  no  sooner  set  eyes  on  the  bed  than 
he  flung  himself  upon  it,  and  was  snoring  hard  before  I 
had  time  to  say  a  word. 

As  for  Snap,  he  caught  sight  of  my  sheepskin  coat 
lying  in  a  corner,  and,  after  turning  himself  around  two  or 
three  times,  stretched  himself  out  upon  it  with  a  long  sigh 
of  relief,  and  was  soon  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

When  I  started  for  school  the  next  morning,  Porphyre 
was  so  tired  that  I  would  not  allow  him  to  get  up. 

"Stay  here  with  Snap,"  I  said,  "and  when  1  return  at 
noon,  we  '11  have  a  talk." 


A  SURPRISE.  211 

" But  —  but  I  should  like  to  have  some  breakfast." 

"  So  should  I,  you  incorrigible  gourmand !  But  you 
must  learn  not  to  make  an  idol  of  your  stomach,  my  dear 
fellow.  We  will  breakfast  —  when  we  can!  " 

Poor  Porphyre !  he  fancied  it  was  only  necessary  for 
him  to  be  hungry  to  see  his  breakfast  appear  forthwith. 

Meanwhile  I  was  becoming  more  and  more  unable  to 
see  how  I  was  going  to  get  out  of  this  scrape.  Serge  no- 
ticed my  preoccupied  air,  and  when  he  questioned  me, 
I  told  him  of  the  unexpected  arrival  of  my  old  friends, 
but  said  nothing  about  the  embarrassing  position  in 
which  it  had  placed  me. 

"What  a  queer  fellow  he  must  be,"  Serge  exclaimed, 
when  I  had  finished.  "I  would  like  to  see  him.  You 
must  be  delighted  to  have  your  dog  with  you  again.  Is 
he  a  handsome  dog?  " 

"  Superb ;  as  big  as  a  calf,  and  perfect  in  every  respect. " 

"Let's  go  and  see  him,  will  you?"  proposed  Serge, 
whose  curiosity  had  been  excited  by  my  eulogiums. 

I  assented  of  course.  Serge  was  probably  surprised  at 
the  wretchedness  of  my  quarters,  but  he  showed  no  signs 
of  it.  He  praised  Snap  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner, 
and  declared  he  had  never  seen  his  equal  at  any  of  the 
numerous  dog-shows  he  had  attended. 

When  Serge  left  us,  I  hastened  to  that  old  rascal 
Naboth,  and  by  dint  of  threats,  entreaties,  and  promises, 
succeeded  in  inducing  him  to  advance  me  a  rouble, —  and 
a  silver  rouble  at  that.  At  first  he  would  give  me  only  a 
paper  rouble;1  but  I  pleaded  so  eloquently  that  he  finally 
yielded,  though  his  lamentations  when  he  parted  with 
his  money  equalled  those  of  the  prophet  Jeremiah. 

1  A  paper  rouble  is  only  about  half  the  value  of  a  silver  rouble. 


212  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  rushed  home  with  bread  and  milk  for  all  three  of 
us.  We  had  a  good  meal,  and  Porphyre  told  me  all  the 
Sitovka  news  without  missing  a  single  mouthful. 

All  the  people  down  there  were  entirely  ignorant  of 
my  misfortunes,  and  really  seemed  to  believe  that  I  was 
living  in  the  lap  of  luxury.  They  thought  it  was  only 
necessary  to  come  to  Moscow  to  succeed  there;  and  I 
suspect  that  it  was  a  vague  hope  of  becoming  one  of  the 
great  of  the  earth  (like  myself),  as  well  as  his  sincere 
affection  for  me,  that  brought  Porphyre  to  Moscow.  I 
had  no  little  trouble  in  convincing  him  that  I  had  little 
or  nothing  to  live  on,  and  that  he  would  be  obliged  to 
work,  exactly  as  I  did.  Unwilling  to  take  upon  myself 
the  responsibility  of  his  sojourn  in  Moscow,  I  did  my 
best  to  persuade  him  to  return  to  his  native  village;  but 
he  absolutely  refused  to  listen  to  me;  and  we  finally  con- 
cluded that  we  would  content  ourselves  with  writing  to 
the  pope,  explaining  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  his 
progeny,  and  hinting  that  some  of  the  products  of  the 
farm,  such  as  smoked  ducks  and  geese,  hams,  sausages, 
and  even  salt  fish,  would  be  very  acceptable. 

While  we  were  talking,  Snap  had  greedily  devoured 
his  share  of  the  bread,  soaked  in  a  little  milk,  and  was 
now  sleeping  soundly  at  my  feet,  his  honest  heart  filled 
with  content  at  having  found  his  master  again.  When  it 
was  time  to  return  to  the  Gymnasium,  Porphyre  insisted 
on  accompanying  me ;  but  the  dread  Gavruchka  stopped 
us  at  the  gateway,  and  would  not  allow  my  companion  to 
set  foot  in  the  courtyard.  He  even  added  that  if  Por- 
phyre and  the  dog  ever  appeared  in  his  presence  again, 
he  would  give  them  a  thrashing  they  would  remember  as 
long  as  they  lived. 


A  SURPRISE.  213 

I  then  learned  that  Porphyre  had  gone  straight  to  the 
Gymnasium  the  evening  before,  and  boldly  asked  the  jan- 
itor where  I  could  be  found.  That  worthy  considered 
that  any  person  who  ventured  to  ask  information  out  of 
school  hours  was  guilty  of  an  atrocious  crime.  He  cer- 
tainly must  be  mad !  So  he  drove  Porphyre  away ;  but  my 
friend,  with  his  wonted  assurance,  established  himself  on 
the  steps  leading  up  to  the  main  entrance,  whence  all  the 
janitor's  abuse  had  been  powerless  to  dislodge  him,  so 
Gavruchka's  wrath  was  excited  to  the  highest  pitch.  On 
seeing  the  culprit  again/ he  manifested  such  furious  anger 
that  I  could  not  help  laughing. 

"I  '11  get  even  with  you,  Terentieff,  you  little  viper!" 
he  exclaimed,  shaking  his  fist  at  me.  "  He  laughs  best 
who  laughs  last,  —  remember  that." 

'"Take  care,  Gavruchka;  anger  is  the  worst  thing  pos- 
sible for  a  man  of  your  size !  You  lose  your  temper,  the 
blood  rushes  to  your  head,  and  apoplexy  carries  you  off 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye." 

"Wait  a  little  and  something  will  carry  you  off,  too, 
you  young  vagabond !  The  clock  has  struck.  Come  in, 
or  I  '11  give  you  a  mark  for  tardiness." 

"  I  say,  Porphyre,  you  be  at  the  gate  waiting  for  me 
when  school  is  out;  and  take  care  not  to  lose  Snap  in 
the  streets." 

"Yes,  yes,"  growled  Gavruchka,  closing  the  door  and 
locking  it  with  a  great  noise,  "  take  care  of  the  dog,  you 
barefooted  rascal,  you  good-for-nothing  scallawag,  etc. " 

For  our  janitor's  vocabulary  was  rich  in  opprobrious 
epithets,  and  already  he  manifested  the  same  deadly 
animosity  toward  Porphyre  as  toward  us,  his  natural 
enemies. 


214  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Several  days  passed,  during  which  Serge  and  I  devoted 
most  of  our  time  to  the  rather  thankless  task  of  showing 
Porphyre  the  wonders  of  Moscow.  I  say  thankless,  be- 
cause his  utter  indifference  astonished  us.  He  expressed 
no  admiration  for  anything;  nothing  surprised  him;  he 
surveyed  the  most  magnificent  buildings  with  a  cold  and 
critical  eye.  Serge,  who  was  quite  naturally  very  proud  of 
Moscow, —  it  being  his  birthplace,  — was  greatly  piqued; 
but  nothing  could  overcome  Porphyre's  indifference. 

I  introduced  my  old  friend  to  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky,  of 
course;  but  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  during  his  very  first 
call  he  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  seat  himself  on  the 
maestro's  violin,  and  that  gentleman,  highly  incensed, 
had  turned  us  both  out,  and  forbidden  Porphyre  ever  to 
enter  his  presence  again. 

We  endeavored  to  find  some  employment  for  the  young 
peasant,  but  in  vain;  and  I  was  beginning  to  think  all 
three  of  us  were  doomed  to  die  of  starvation  —  Snap  was 
becoming  thinner  every  day  —  when  we  at  last  discovered 
a  means  of  support  for  Porphyre. 

The  porter  of  the  house  adjoining  the  Berezoff  mansion 
was  so  often  at  his  door  that  I  had  become  tolerably  well 
acquainted  with  him ;  and  as  I  was  asking  him  one  day  if 
he  could  tell  us  of  any  work  we  could  get  to  do,  a  happy 
thought  struck  him. 

He  was  getting  old,  and  suffered  greatly  from  rheuma- 
tic pains  in  his  joints.  His  situation,  like  that  of  all  his 
brother-porters,  obliged  him  to  watch  outside  eight  hours 
every  night,  and  this  duty  had  become  so  onerous  to  him 
that  he  had  decided  to  employ  an  assistant ;  so  he  asked 
Porphyre  to  watch  half  the  night  for  him  in  exchange  for 
his  supper.  He  was  to  come  early  in  the  evening,  eat 


A  SURPRISE.  215 

his  supper,  and  sleep  by  the  stove  the  first  four  hours  of 
the  night ;  then  the  porter  was  to  wake  him,  and  lend  him 
his  overcoat  and  boots,  and,  thus  protected  from  the  cold, 
my  friend  was  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  night  pacing  the 
sidewalk  in  front  of  the  house.  Old  Ivan  promised  to 
give  him  a  rouble  a  month  for  his  services,  besides  his 
supper. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  we  accepted  his  offer  very  grate- 
fully; and  as  Snap  got  into  the  habit  of  keeping  Porphyre 
company,  Ivan's  wife  took  a  fancy  to  the  dog,  and  always 
saved  him  a  plate  of  bones  or  scraps,  so  my  guests  soon 
began  to  look  like  themselves  again.  Indeed,  Porphyre 
grew  so  stout  that  his  clothes  became  much  too  small 
for  him ;  and  his  arms  and  legs  began  to  look  very  like 
sausages,  so  tightly  were  they  encased  in  their  coverings. 

In  about  three  weeks  a  letter  came  from  Porphyre' s 
father.  After  a  well-deserved  reproof  that  brought  tears 
to  the  eyes  of  the  culprit,  the  good  pope  forgave  his  son, 
at  the  same  time  announcing  that  his  godfather,  the  rich 
farmer,  touched  by  his  forlorn  situation,  — we  had  drawn 
a  picture  that  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone,  — had 
consented  to  assume  the  expenses  of  his  education  at  the 
Gymnasium.  This  news  delighted  us  beyond  measure; 
and  the  following  morning  I  took  Porphyre  to  our  super- 
intendent, who  admitted  him  very  willingly,  and  Por- 
phyre, with  the  red  cap  proudly  perched  on  his  long  thick 
locks,  made  a  triumphal  entry  into  the  Gymnasium  under 
the  very  eyes  of  the  indignant  janitor. 

Porphyre,  having  been  taught  by  his  father, —  a  man 
who  would  tolerate  no  nonsense,  and  who  was  not  in- 
clined to  spare  the  rod, — was  a  very  fair  scholar.  He 
maintained  a  very  creditable  stand  in  his  classes,  espe- 


2l6  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

cially  in  mathematics,  and  I  soon  became  so  accustomed 
to  having  him  with  me,  that  I  quite  forgot  he  had  not 
always  been  there ;  and  when  I  glanced  up  from  my  book 
and  beheld  my  friend's  round  good-natured  face,  and  saw 
Snap  stretched  out  full  length  on  the  floor,  it  almost 
seemed  to  me  that  I  was  still  in  Sitovka. 

It  cost  me  quite  an  effort  to  recall  where  I  really  was, 
and  to  remember  that  never,  never  again  would  my  eyes 
meet  the  loving  gaze  of  my  father ! 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   VAMPIRE. 

L 

PORPHYRE'S  admission  to  the  Gymnasium  was  a 
veritable  godsend  to  Grichine.  My  old  friend  had 
scarcely  set  foot  in  the  school-room  before  the  very  spirit  of 
mischief  seemed  to  take  possession  of  Grichine,  who  with 
every  indication  of  intense  surprise  opened  his  little  eyes 
to  their  widest  extent  and  riveted  them  wonderingly  upon 
the  fat  face  of  priest  Agathon's  son.  But  Porphyre  was 
not  a  boy  to  be  disconcerted  by  such  a  trifle.  Settling 
himself  comfortably  in  his  seat,  and  resting  one  elbow 
on  his  desk,  he  proceeded  to  give  his  undivided  atten- 
tion to  M.  Golovetchov's  lesson.  In  vain  Grichine  in- 
dulged in  the  wildest  contortions,  snapped  the  joints  of 
his  fingers,  and  snorted  like  a  locomotive,  answering  as 
if  in  a  dream  when  his  turn  came,  with  his  eyes  still 
fixed  upon  Porphyre's  face;  my  friend  did  not  take  the 
slightest  notice  of  him,  and  the  only  result  of  this  panto- 
mime was  to  excite  our  mirth  and  bring  down  upon  us  a 
stern  reprimand  from  our  professor. 

At  recess  it  was  still  worse.  Grichine  kept  close  at 
Porphyre's  heels,  imitating  his  every  movement,  and  giv- 
ing such  a  ludicrous  and  exaggerated  imitation  of  his 
manner  and  speech  that  Platon  Gregorov  nearly  died  of 
laughter. 


218  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

But  such  persistent  efforts  could  hardly  fail  to  attract 
Porphyre's  attention  sooner  or  later;  and  one  day  while 
Grichine  was  shambling  along  country  fashion,  with  his 
legs  far  apart  and  his  head  hanging  on  his  breast,  Por- 
phyre  suddenly  turned  and  caught  him  in  the  very  act. 

He  gazed  at  his  tormentor  coolly  for  a  moment,  as  a  big, 
good-natured  ox  would  gaze  at  a  troublesome  puppy  who 
was  snapping  at  his  heels;  then  he  seized  him  by  the 
collar,  and  giving  his  hand  a  sudden  twist,  was  evidently 
about  to  hurl  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  playground, 
when  the  little  monkey  wriggled  loose  from  his  hold,  and 
falling  at  Porphyre's  feet,  and  clasping  his  hands  as  if  in 
abject  terror,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Pardon  me,  noble  stranger.  If  I  have  not  been  able 
to  restrain  my  admiration  on  beholding  you,  you  must 
impute  my  boldness  solely  to  the  intensity  of  my  emo- 
tion. Spare  me,  and  above  all,  spare  my  blouse!  Its 
age  is  venerable,  and  its  misfortunes  worthy  of  the  most 
profound  respect.  My  mother  —  a  poor  widow  —  has  often 
mended  it  for  me;  but  if  your  powerful  hand  descends 
upon  it,  its  fate  is  sealed." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  make  such  a  fool  of  yourself  ? 
Let  me  alone,  will  you?"  said  Porphyre,  with  a  half- 
bewildered  air. 

"  Yes ;  but  first  let  me  embrace  you.     Your  magnan- , 
imity  overpowers  me,   O  most  noble  of  scholars !     Por- 
phyre, dear,  dear  Porphyre  Agathonovitch,  —  for  they  tell 
me   that   is  your  august  name,  —  beloved  model  of  my 
soul!" 

And  falling  on  Porphyre's  neck,  he  clung  there,  nearly 
smothering  him  in  his  embrace;  then  flying  off  on  an- 
other tangent,  he  constituted  himself  the  champion  of 


THE  VAMPIRE.  219 

the  new-comer.  He  valiantly  defended  him  from  all 
aggression,  even  that  of  a  purely  imaginary  nature;  ex- 
plained all  our  rules  and  customs  at  great  length ;  gave 
him  most  fantastical  histories  of  our  professors  and  stu- 
dents,—  in  short,  he  strove  by  a  thousand  cunning  devices 
to  completely  turn  the  head  of  this  poor  country  lad. 

I  did  not  interfere;  first,  because  Porphyre  was  cer- 
tainly big  enough  and  strong  enough  to  defend  himself 
if  necessary;  and  secondly,  because  Grichine's  pranks 
were  so  amusing  that  one  really  could  not  take  him  to 
task  for  them ;  besides,  in  spite  of  his  countrified  ways, 
Porphyre  really  possessed  too  much  natural  shrewdness 
to  place  much  confidence  in  his  new  friend's  absurd 
statements. 

I  recollect  one  scene  that  illustrates  the  relations 
which  existed  between  them  quite  clearly. 

Porphyre  was  suffering  with  a  severe  cold  in  his  head, 
and  his  violent  fits  of  sneezing  and  coughing  had  an- 
noyed M.  Perekoff  very  much  during  a  demonstration. 
The  poor  boy  made  an  heroic  effort  to  keep  quiet ;  but 
after  an  interval  of  about  five  minutes  the  demon  of  in- 
fluenza got  the  upper  hand  of  him  again,  and  he  made  the 
very  walls  tremble  by  another  terrific  paroxysm  of  sneez- 
ing. To  crown  his  misfortunes,  he  had  forgotten  his 
pocket  handkerchief. 

"This  is  intolerable!"  cried  our  professor,  who  was 
very  quick-tempered ;  "one  cannot  hear  one's  self  think. 
If  you  have  such  a  cold,  you  had  better  go  home. " 

"  I  shall  be  all  right  in  a  minute,  sir,  only  I  —  atchee 
—  only  I  have  no  —  atchee !  atchee !  —  no  hand  —  atchee ! 
oh,  atchee!  atchee!  —  no  handkerchief,  sir." 

"  Lend  him  a  handkerchief,  one  of  you !  "    exclaimed 


220  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

M.  Perekoff,  in  evident  disgust.  "  I  can't  be  interrupted 
in  this  way  any  more.  Go  on,  Serge  Arcadievitch. " 

Serge  resumed  his  demonstration,  and  I  hastily  passed 
Porphyre  my  handkerchief.  He  buried  his  face  in  it,  and 
emerged  some  minutes  afterwards  purple  in  the  face,  but 
much  more  calm.  He  magnanimously  offered  to  return 
the  handkerchief;  but  I  declined  his  offer  with  horror,  so 
he  crumpled  it  up  into  a  little  wet  ball,  and  slipped  it 
into  his  pocket. 

Before  ten  minutes  had  elapsed,  his  situation  had  be- 
come as  desperate  as  ever.  He  made  frantic  signals  to 
me ;  but  I  was  not  in  the  habit  of  carrying  handkerchiefs 
about  by  the  dozen,  and  I  had  none  to  offer  him.  M. 
Perekoff  was  beginning  to  frown  again,  and  to  be- 
stow ominous  glances  on  the  offender,  when  Grichine, 
with  great  deliberation,  drew  a  big,  ragged,  half-soiled 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  and  spreading  it  slowly 
out  before  him,  surveyed  it  with  a  thoughtful  air. 

"Lend  it  to  me,  Grichine,  I  beg  of  you,"  whispered 
poor  Porphyre. 

Grichine  shook  his  head. 

"People  don't  lend  such  things  as  this  for  nothing," 
he  replied  sententiously. 

"Oh  —  atchee!  atchee!  atchee!  — oh,  do,  like  a  good 
fellow!" 

"I'll  lend  it  to  you  for  a  consideration,"  answered 
Grichine,  deliberately. 

"  Oh,  hurry !  do  hurry !  " 

"  I  '11  lend  it  to  you  on  condition  you  pay  me  a  kopeck 
a  blow,"  responded  the  inexorable  Grichine. 

"But  I've  only  got  two  kopecks,"  pleaded  Porphyre, 
disconsolately. 


THE  VAMPIRE.  221 

"A  kopeck  a  blow,  or  you  sha'n't  have  it,"  repeated 
Grichine,  stoutly. 

"  Here,  take  them  then, "  said  Porphyre,  wildly,  throw- 
ing him  his  two  kopecks;  then  seizing  Grichine's  hand- 
kerchief, and  revolting  against  such  tyranny,  he  used  it 
vigorously,  not  once  or  twice,  but  a  dozen  times,  in  quick 
succession.  Grichine  tried  to  tear  it  from  his  grasp,  but 
the  other  clung  to  it  with  the  energy  of  despair;  they 
kicked  each  other  stealthily  but  viciously  under  the 
benches,  and  would  certainly  have  been  sent  from  the 
room  if  the  session  had  not  ended  just  then. 

Grichine's  habit  of  extorting  money  for  any  and  every 
thing  had  won  him  the  name  of  the  Miser  Student ;  but 
strange  to  say,  he  was  neither  hated  nor  despised,  as  would 
have  seemed  natural  under  the  circumstances;  in  fact, 
there  was  something  so  frank  and  pleasant  about  him, 
and  he  smiled  so  slyly  and  good-naturedly  when  his  ex- 
tortions were  alluded  to,  that  no  one  really  felt  any 
grudge  against  him. 

Capiton  Strodtmann  took  advantage  of  this  propensity 
on  the  part  of  his  fellow  student,  and  hired  him  to  write 
all  his  exercises  for  him,  — a  fact  which,  by  the  way,  re- 
sulted in  a  startling  difference  between  his  written  les- 
sons and  those  which  he  recited;  and  though  Strodtmann 
chose  to  regard  Grichine  rather  in  the  light  of  an  em- 
ploye, and  spoke  to  him  a  little  haughtily  at  times,  he 
was  really  too  useful  to  him  to  be  treated  with  contumely. 
As  for  Grichine,  he  troubled  himself  very  little  about 
Capiton's  opinion  or  conduct,  and  openly  avowed  a  pro- 
found contempt  for  him. 

Sometimes  Porphyre  and  I  went  to  Goltchov's  pension 
to  get  our  dinner,  when  we  were  tired  of  living  on  bread 


222  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

and  milk,  or  dry  bread,  and  on  his  days  of  opulence  we 
usually  met  Grichine  there.  The  pension  was  patronized 
by  the  pupils  of  several  public  and  private  schools,  who 
took  their  meals  at  a  long  table  presided  over  by  a  repul- 
sive old  German  woman.  She  spoke  an  almost  unintel- 
ligible jargon,  and  nearly  poisoned  us  by  her  horrible 
cookery.  I  don't  know  where  she  got  the  meat  she 
placed  before  us,  but  the  mere  sight  of  it  often  turned 
my  stomach. 

At  Sitovka  I  had  always  devoured  my  big  chunk  of 
black  bread  with  the  best  of  appetites,  and  quaffed  clear 
cold  water  with  never-failing  delight;  but  the  meat  old 
dame  Goltchov  set  before  me  inspired  me  with  uncon- 
querable disgust,  and  her  sour,  husky  bread  only  in- 
creased my  distaste  for  her  viands.  By  some  secret 
understanding  with  her  butcher  doubtless,  the  meat  she 
doled  out  to  us  with  a  parsimonious  hand  consisted 
almost  entirely  of  quivering,  half-viscid  fat,  accompanied 
by  the  tiniest  possible  scrap  of  lean ;  but  it  was  an  un- 
written, though  no  less  rigorously  observed,  law  among 
the  successive  generations  of  students  who  had  occupied 
seats  at  her  table,  that  it  was  a  disgrace  to  like  fat,  and 
a  positive  crime  to  eat  it,  and 'any  person  who  so  far  for- 
got himself  as  to  yield  to  such  a  depraved  taste  was  re- 
garded as  an  unnatural  monster;  so  the  plates  usually  left 
the  table  bordered  with  scraps  of  fat,  especially  on  the 
days  we  had  boiled  beef  for  dinner.  Implicit  obedience 
to  this  regulation  entailed  no  sacrifice  upon  me,  however, 
for  the  mere  sight  of  this  oily  substance  spoiled  my  appe- 
tite, and  I  was  frequently  obliged  to  leave  the  lean  meat 
as  well  as  the  fat. 

It  was  soon  after  my  arrival  in  Moscow,  and  during 


THE   VAMPIRE.  22$ 

one  of  my  first  meals  at  Dame  Goltchov's  table,  that 
Grichine  Yegov  chanced  to  occupy  a  seat  opposite  me.  I 
noticed  that  neither  of  his  neighbors  at  table  exchanged 
a  word  with  him,  and  no  one  took  the  slightest  notice  of 
him  when  he  spoke.  This  surprised  me  a  little;  but  I 
probably  should  not  have  thought  much  about  it,  had  not 
my  neighbor,  a  student  at  another  Gymnasium,  given  me 
a  terrific  poke  in  the  ribs  when  I  replied  to  some  remark 
that  Grichine  chanced  to  make. 

I  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"Are  you  talking  to  him ?  "  he  whispered. 

"Of  course.  He  's  a  classmate  of  mine,  and  a  capital 
fellow.  Why  should  n't  I  speak  to  him?  " 

"Nobody  takes  any  notice  of  him  here." 

"What  is  that  to  me?" 

"But  he  's  completely  ostracized,  I  tell  you." 

"  Why  ?     What  has  he  done  ?" 

"Watch  him  after  dinner  and  you  '11  see  for  yourself. 
Look  at  him  now.  Ugh!  doesn't  it  make  you  sick?" 

For  Grichine  was  devouring  a  big  piece  of  fat  with 
great  apparent  relish.  I  saw  nothing  so  very  reprehen- 
sible about  that,  however,  all  tastes  not  being  the  same, 
fortunately. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  I  inquired  of  my  neighbor. 

"You'll  see,"  he  replied  gloomily,  at  the  same  time 
lifting  up  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  horror. 

My  curiosity  being  excited,  I  paused  at  the  door  before 
going  out,  and  furtively  watched  Grichine,  as  my  neighbor 
had  bidden  me.  He  was  the  last  to  leave  the  table,  and 
imagine  my  surprise,  when  I  saw  him  rise,  and  drawing  a 
brown  paper-bag  from  his  pocket,  walk  around  the  table, 
and  adroitly  push  into  it  ail  the  cold,  greasy  scraps  left 


224  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

on  the  plates !  He  did  this  deliberately,  and  apparently 
without  the  slightest  desire  to  conceal  the  deed ;  in  fact, 
there  was  an  expression  of  stern,  almost  ferocious  deter^ 
mination  on  his  usually  good-natured  face. 

"  How  can  you  be  willing  to  do  such  a  disgusting 
thing  ? "  I  said  to  him  rudely,  as  he  came  out. 

He  looked  up  at  me.  There  was  a  strangely  patient 
and  gentle  expression  in  his  eyes,  — an  expression  of  res- 
ignation, almost,  it  seemed  to  me ;  but  I  had  scarcely  had 
time  to  notice  it  when  his  eyes  began  to  sparkle  with  all 
their  wonted  mischievousness. 

"It's  a  great  secret,  but  I'm  going  to  tell  you,"  he 
replied. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"Well,  my  good  fellow,  you  mustn't  tell  anybody,  of 
course,  but  I  'm  a  vampire,"  he  answered,  with  a  mock- 
ing laugh. 

And  he  rushed  off,  awaking  all  the  echoes  with  his 
shrill  whistle  as  he  ran  down  the  street. 

I  stood  gazing  after  him  in  profound  astonishment. 
I  was  completely  mystified  by  his  words;  afterwards, 
when  his  conduct  was  explained,  I  rejoiced  that  I  had  not 
ignored  and  insulted  my  schoolmate  like  the  others. 

Whenever  I  dined  at  Goltchov's,  and  Grichine  was 
present,  I  was  obliged  to  witness  the  same  disagreeable 
sight;  and  Porphyre,  who  had  a  true  country  lad's  horror 
of  doubtful  meats,  really  believed  what  Grichine  had  said, 
and  regarded  him  as  a  sort  of  ghoul. 

Meanwhile,  the  examination  for  the  scholarships  had 
taken  place.  After  a  month  of  arduous  study,  I  ventured 
to  compete,  and  just  succeeded  in  passing  the  examina- 
tion. I  even  succeeded  in  beating  the  most  stupid  of  my 


"  WHAT   DELIGHTFUL    HOURS   I   SPENT   ALONE   AT   THE   ORGAN  !  " 


THE   VAMPIRE.  22 7 

competitors  by  half  a  point.  But  even  half  a  point  has 
its  charms  when  it  is  on  the  right  side,  as  I  discovered 
when  I  received  notice  of  my  appointment,  and  ran  to 
thank  M.  Kratkine,  who  had  so  kindly  made  my  needs 
known  to  our  superintendent,  and  who  seemed  delighted 
at  my  success.  Serge,  too,  was  much  pleased. 

"I'm  glad  you 're  a  free  scholar,"  he  remarked,  "for 
now  you  '11  have  to  work  hard  to  repay  the  debt  of  grati- 
tude you  owe  the  Gymnasium,  if  for  no  other  reason." 

"But  I  do  work,  I  assure  you." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  study  fairly  well;  but  you're  too 
whimsical.  You  don't  like  this,  and  you  don't  like  that. 
If  one  really  desires  to  succeed,  one  must  apply  one's 
self  faithfully  to  every  branch  of  learning.  Your  literary 
style  need  be  none  the  worse  because  you  take  a  little 
more  pains  with  your  mathematics." 

Serge  certainly  practised  what  he  preached;  and  since 
that  time,  I  have  often  had  good  reason  to  acknowledge 
the  wisdom  of  his  counsels. 

But  how  I  hated  those  tiresome  figures !  And  yet,  the 
art  to  which  I  had  secretly  consecrated  my  life  is  one, 
above  all  others,  in  which  mathematical  accuracy  and 
precision  are  indispensable. 

I  was  secretly  going  on  with  my  music.  Nepomuk 
Raabzinsky,  satisfied  with  the  progress  I  had  made  in 
theory,  had  at  last  allowed  me  to  lay  my  hands  on  the 
piano.  After  that,  I  soon  became  able  to  give  expres- 
sion to  the  musical  fancies  that  were  ever  flitting  through 
my  brain.  Subsequently,  he  gave  his  choir  almost  en- 
tirely into  my  charge ;  then  what  delightful  hours  I  spent 
alone  at  the  organ  in  the  great  dimly'  lighted  church, 
lost  in  that  divine  frenzy  of  which  the  poet  speaks ! 


228  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

My  first  year  at  the  Gymnasium  ended  uneventfully 
but  satisfactorily;  and  the  following  autumn, — after  a 
vacation  devoted  entirely  to  music  but  for  an  occasional 
tramp  of  five  or  six  hours  through  the  surrounding  coun- 
try,—  I  passed  into  the  Second  Class,  in  company  with  my 
fellow  students  of  the  first  division  of  the  Third  Class. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A   RACE   ON   SKATES. 

ABOUT  three  months  after  I  entered  the  Second  Class, 
I  was  sitting  alone  in  my  room,  trying  to  fix  my 
mind  on  a  perplexing  problem  in  algebra,  when  the  door 
opened  noisily,  and  Porphyre  rushed  in  like  a  cyclone. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  "  he  cried.  "  We  're  going 
to  have  a  glorious  lark  in  about  a  fortnight.  Count  Brov- 
sky,  an  old  student  of  Saint-Vladimir,  is  going  to  give  us 
a  grand  entertainment  on  the  ice,  with  skating  races  be- 
tween the  different  classes,  and  all  sorts  of  games,  and  a 
fine  lunch.  Oh,  it  makes  my  mouth  water  just  to  think 
of  it!  Won't  it  be  glorious!  And,  Dmitri,  you  must 
certainly  try  for  the  Second  Class  prize.  I  'm  sure  you  'd 
win  it.  It's  as  good  as  yours  already.  Hurrah,  we'll 
show  these  Moscow  dandies  what  skating  is ! " 

Porphyre  was  beside  himself.  The  prospect  of  such 
festivities  had  completely  turned  his  head.  His  enthu- 
siasm communicated  itself  to  me;  and  throwing  aside 
my  books,  we  rushed  to  the  Gymnasium  to  hear  further 
particulars. 

"You'll  compete,  of  course,"  Serge  remarked  on  our 
next  meeting.  "  We  are  counting  on  you.  Strodtmann, 
too,  is  one  of  our  best  skaters,  but  I  confess  I  should  n't 
be  sorry  to  see  you  beat  him." 


230  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"I'd  rather  like  it  myself,"  I  replied  ;  "but  I  fear  it 
would  interfere  too  much  with  my  work." 

"  Nonsense !  all  the  rest  of  us  will  be  in  the  same  boat, 
so  why  need  you  care  if  you  don't  have  your  lessons  quite 
as  well  as  usual  ?  You  ought  to  go  into  training  at  once. 
You  're  our  champion,  don't  forget  that !  " 

To  tell  the  truth  I  did  not  require  much  urging;  and 
after  that,  almost  every  leisure  moment  was  spent  on 
the  ice,  either  alone  or  in  company  with  Porphyre, 
Kratkine,  and  other  classmates.  We  talked  of  nothing 
but  skates  and  skating,  the  respective  merits  of  each 
method  of  skating  furnishing  food  for  continual  and 
excited  controversy. 

Capiton,  who  was  the  chosen  champion  of  a  portion  of 
the  Second  Class,  was  equally  assiduous  in  his  efforts  to 
get  himself  in  the  best  possible  form;  but  though  he 
skated  with  remarkable  ease  and  grace,  I  did  not  feel 
very  much  afraid  of  him ;  for  I  had  been  born  with  skates 
on  my  feet,  so  to  speak,  and  the  long  distances  I  had 
skated  while  in  Sitovka  prevented  me  from  being  troubled 
with  many  misgivings  regarding  the  result  of  the  race. 

Among  Capiton' s  most  devoted  followers  were  Savine 
Podnier  and  Luvine,  two  rather  disagreeable  fellows, 
and  slighting  remarks  and  sly  innuendoes  were  greatly  in 
vogue  with  them.  Strodtmann  was  often  heard  to  mut- 
ter something  about  "  intruders, "  and  "ragged  clowns," 
and  "country  bumpkins," — epithets  which  I  felt  sure 
were  addressed  to  Porphyre  and  me ;  but  I  could  not  vent 
my  wrath  upon  him  for  the  very  good  reason  that  having 
asked  Capiton  fairly  and  squarely  if  he  was  talking  to 
me,  he  feigned  the  greatest  surprise. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you,  Terentieff  ? " 


A  RACE  ON  SKATES. 

he   exclaimed.     "What  do   you  mean?     I  wasn't  even 
thinking  of  you." 

"  If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me,  say  it  and  have 
done  with  it,"  I  retorted,  much  irritated  by  his  manner. 

"  I  've  no  idea  what  you're  driving  at,  my  dear  fellow. 
Haven't  I  always  shown  the  greatest  indulgence  for  your 
—  your  countrified  manners  and  bucolic  —  innocence?  " 

"  If  you  want  to  settle  it  with  fists,  you  '11  find  a  bucolic 
strength  in  mine  that  won't  be  much  to  your  liking,  per- 
haps," I  answered  savagely. 

"Don't  lose  your  temper;  it  is  very  silly  in  a  lad  like 
you,"  he  said  in  his  most  supercilious  tones.  "Under- 
stand once  for  all,  that  gentlemen  do  not  indulge  in  fisti- 
cuffs in  the  first  place,  and  in  the  second  place,  they 
never  fight  without  a  cause." 

I  turned  my  back  upon  him. 

"These  rustics  really  hope  to  win,"  said  Podnier,  sneer- 
ingly,  as  I  moved  away.  "What  insatiable  creatures  they 
are!  We  poor  Moscow  boys  won't  know  where  to  go 
soon." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be  troubled  about  that,"  responded 
Capiton.  "  I  can  beat  each  and  every  one  of  them,  even 
skating  backwards." 

"  You  're  able  to,  unquestionably,"  replied  Podnier;  "  if 
it  were  a  matter  of  mending  rags  or  sawing  wood  like  a 
peasant,  I  shouldn't  be  so  sure  of  your  success." 

This  was  a  very  transparent  allusion  to  an  incident 
that  had  occurred  only  a  few  days  before.  Podnier  had 
chanced  to  pass  our  door  just  as  I  was  sawing  some  wood 
for  Ouliana  Petrovna,  who  had  complained  that  the  load 
she  had  purchased  was  too  long  for  her  stove. 

I  despised  this  warfare  of  pin -pricks  too  much  to  con- 


232  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

descend  to  reply;  so  I  contented  myself  with  jostling  them 
roughly  and  glowering  upon  them  as  we  re-entered  the 
Gymnasium,  looking  them  full  in  the  face  all  the  while. 
They  pretended  not  to  notice  it,  however,  and  it  was  not 
until  after  I  had  passed  them  that  they  ventured  to  in- 
dulge in  a  sneering  laugh. 

The  eventful  day  dawned  at  last.  The  sun  rose  clear 
and  bright,  and  the  day  promised  to  be  superb.  Old 
Ivan  had  excused  Porphyre  from  duty  the  night  before, 
and  the  latter  improved  his  opportunity  so  well  that  I 
had  considerable  difficulty  in  stopping  his  snoring  and 
inducing  him  to  get  up  the  next  morning. 

"There's  plenty  of  time,"  he  muttered,  turning  his 
face  to  the  wall. 

"Get  up!  get  up  this  minute,  or  I  '11  go  without  you;  " 
I  exclaimed,  giving  him  a  vigorous  thump  in  the  back. 

I  succeeded  in  getting  him  out  of  bed  at  last,  but 
another  difficulty  then  presented  itself.  He  absolutely 
refused  to  make  a  toilet  suited  to  the  occasion,  pleading 
as  an  excuse  that  the  water  was  too  cold.  In  fact,  I  had 
just  broken  a  thick  coating  of  ice  in  the  bucket. 

"  But  it  is  the  best  way  in  the  world  to  warm  yourself, 
you  simpleton !  "  I  cried.  "  Only  milksops  bathe  in  warm 
water !  It  does  very  well  for  infants  and  women.  Come, 
enough  said,  wash  and  have  it  over  with !  " 

I  was  obliged  to  use  force,  however;  and  as  he  con- 
tinued to  rebel,  I  took  the  soap  and  rubbed  it  in  his  face. 
As  he  struggled  with  me,  half  laughingly,  half  angrily,  he 
got  the  soapsuds  into  his  eyes,  and  when  he  tried  to  dry 
them,  he  nearly  blinded  himself  by  using  his  big  gray 
caftan  instead  of  a  towel. 

We  were  obliged  to  go  to  Saint-Vladimir  first,  to  get 


A  RACE  ON  SKATES.  233 

our  skates,  which  had  been  left  there  the  afternoon  before. 
I  had  devoted  nearly  an  hour  to  repairing  mine,  for  I  had 
polished  the  steel  until  it  shone  like  silver,  and  bought 
a  new  set  of  strong  but  pliable  straps  that  cost  me  ten 
kopecks.  I  was  resolved  to  leave  nothing  to  chance  in 
this  contest. 

The  Gymnasium  seemed  to  be  the  place  of  rendezvous 
for  all  the  students  that  morning,  and  Gavruchka  turned 
crimson  with  wrath  on  seeing  the  noisy  crowd  appear. 

"What  do  you  want  now,  you  gang  of  good-for- 
nothings?"  he  cried.  "Is  there  no  such  thing  as  get- 
ting rid  of  you?  I  thought  I  should  have  some  peace 
this  morning,  but  you  keep  on  coming." 

"Gavruchka  is  jealous  because  he  isn't  going  to  the 
fete !  "  shouted  one  of  the  little  fellows.  We  all  laughed, 
and  the  janitor  went  back  to  his  room,  grunting  and 
growling. 

It  took  some  time  for  all  the  boys  to  find  their  skates 
in  the  chaos  that  reigned  in  the  little  building  where  we 
kept  our  balls,  bats,  and  sleds ;  but  they  finally  succeeded, 
and  we  then  set  out  in  high  spirits  for  Count  Brovsky's 
country-place. 

"  I  think  you  've  got  a  better  chance  to  win  than  Strodt- 
mann,"  cried  Grichine.  "You  're  more  supple  than  he  is, 
and  longer  winded ;  everybody  says  you '11  beat  him,  and 
I  'm  sure  I  hope  you  will.  I  don't  like  Capiton." 

"  Nor  do  I,  I  assure  you. " 

We  soon  reached  the  gateway  of  the  Count  Brovsky's 
chateau,  an  immense  building  surrounded  by  extensive 
and  beautifully  kept  grounds,  in  the  suburbs  of  Moscow. 
The  large  number  of  private  carriages  already  in  the 
grounds  indicated  that  a  large  crowd  would  be  in  attend- 


234  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

ance;  the  lofty  trees,  covered  with  snow  and  icicles,  made 
a  beautiful  picture  as  they  stood  out  against  the  blue  sky; 
and  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  breathe  this  pure,  crisp  air! 
I  was  in  the  best  of  spirits ;  and  Serge  and  Porphyre,  who 
were  walking  beside  me,  shared  my  good  humor. 

Suddenly  we  paused  with  an  exclamation  of  delight  on 
beholding  the  lake, —  a  sheet  of  smooth,  glittering  ice 
extending  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  Count  Brov- 
sky,  our  superintendent,  and  our  assistant  superintendent, 
and  a  number  of  their  friends  met  us  on  the  margin  of 
the  lake. 

The  rules  that  were  to  govern  the  races  were  explained 
to  us.  Our  class  was  to  begin. 

A  list  of  the  students  who  intended  to  compete  for  the 
Second  Class  prize  had  been  given  to  Count  Brovsky  by 
our  superintendent.  There  were  thirty  of  them  in  all, 
and  they  were  to  be  divided  into  two  parties  of  fifteen 
pupils  each,  chosen  by  lot.  Each  party  was  to  skate, 
separately,  a  distance  of  two  versts,  the  end  of  the  course 
being  marked  by  a  stake.  The  victor  in  the  first  party 
was  then  to  compete  with  the  victor  in  the  second  party, 
and  would  be  obliged  to  win  two  races  out  of  three  — 
each  race  one  verst  only  —  to  secure  the  prize,  —  a  hand- 
some bicycle  given  by  the  count. 

The  drawing  began.  Capiton  found  himself  in  the  first 
division ;  so  did  Porphyre  and  Serge ;  Grichine,  Podnier, 
and  I  in  the  second. 

The  first  division  formed  into  line. 

"Are  you  ready?  "  cried  the  count. 

"Yes." 

A  shot  resounded,  and  the  fifteen  competitors  were  off. 
At  first  they  seemed  to  maintain  an  unbroken  front ;  then 


A  RACE  ON  SKATES.  235 

to  form  a  sort  of  curving  ribbon  on  the  smooth  surface 
of  the  ice;  but  this  soon  resolved  itself  into  tiny  black 
specks  here  and  there.  Then  I  saw  Serge  take  the  lead, 
then  Porphyre,  then  Serge  again;  but  finally  Capiton, 
easily  recognized  by  his  red  shirt  and  tall  stature,  darted 
by  him  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  reached  the  goal 
first. 

"  Hurrah !  hurrah !  Bravo,  Strodtmann !  bravo !  "  shouted 
the  crowd. 

"  Now  the  others !  "  cried  the  count. 

We  formed  in  line;  again  the  signal  sounded.  We 
were  off. 

I  skated  rather  slowly  at  first,  in  order  to  reserve  my 
strength  for  the  last  moment.  Grichine,  Platon  Gregorov, 
and  Podnier  led  the  party  by  turn.  When  we  were  within 
half  a  verst  of  the  goal  I  quickened  my  speed  very  consider- 
ably, and  flying  by  the  others,  reached  the  stake  fully  three 
seconds  before  Podnier. 

My  victory  was  applauded  as  enthusiastically  as  Strodt- 
mann's  had  been.  As  my  schoolmates  had  predicted,  we 
were  to  be  the  contestants  in  the  final  race. 

It  is  customary  for  the  two  competitors  to  shake  hands 
before  starting,  as  a  proof  that  the  race  is  to  be  conducted 
in  an  honest  and  friendly  manner. 

I  extended  my  hand  to  Capiton,  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes  all  the  while,  but  he  scarcely  touched  it,  and 
I  noticed  that  he  seemed  to  shun  my  gaze. 

Plenty  of  time  to  take  breath  was  allowed  us ;  then  the 
signal  was  again  given. 

For  half  a  verst  we  skated  along  side  by  side;  then 
Capiton  pushed  on  with  so  much  energy  that  he  got  about 
eight  feet  in  advance  of  me,  and  this  distance  between  us 


236  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

remained  unchanged  until  we  came  in  sight  of  the  stake; 
then,  exerting  my  strength  to  the  uttermost,  I  passed  my 
opponent,  and  reached  the  goal  first,  he  following  close 
at  my  heels. 

Frenzied  shouts  of  "  Bravo,  T6rentieff,  bravo !  Hurrah, 
hurrah !  "  greeted  my  victory.  My  classmates  crowded 
around  me,  slapped  me  on  the  back  approvingly,  shook 
hands  with  me  again  and  again,  and  waved  their  caps 
wildly  in  the  air  during  the  five  minutes  allowed  us  for 
rest.  We  were  all  greatly  excited ;  Capiton  alone  was 
silent  and  gloomy,  and  Porphyre  told  me  afterwards  that 
he  heard  him  mutter,  "I'll  beat  that  peasant  if  I  have  to 
die  for  if." 

Again  we  took  our  places  side  by  side,  Strodtmann  and 
I.  My  blood  was  coursing  swiftly  through  my  veins  now. 
A  wild  longing  for  the  fray  and  for  success  therein  ani- 
mated both  body  and  soul;  I  could  see  nothing  but  the 
glittering  ice,  with  that  tiny  black  speck  in  the  distance, 
and  my  opponent  beside  me,  quivering  like  a  race  horse. 
To  win,  to  win,  to  reach  the  goal  first  —  that  was  the 
only  desire  I  had  in  the  world  now! 

Capiton  soon  pushed  on  ahead,  as  in  the  previous  race ; 
but  I  quickly  overtook  him,  and  we  flew  along  side  by 
side,  almost  touching  each  other.  We  were  less  than  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  stake  when  the  strap  on  my  left 
skate  broke,  the  skate  turned,  I  stumbled  and  nearly  fell. 
I  regained  my  equilibrium,  however,  by  a  violent  effort; 
but  Capiton  had  already  rounded  the  stake.  I  reached  it 
two  seconds  afterwards,  and  I  noticed  he  was  as  pale  as 
death. 

He  was  declared  winner  of  the  second  race. 

"  It  seems  very  strange  when  you  took  care  to  put  new 


A  RACE  ON  SKATES.  237 

straps  on  your  skates,  and  grease  them  too,"  cried  Por- 
phyre.  "They  were  in  perfect  order." 

"  It  is  all  the  more  strange  as  I  saw  your  skates  in  the 
hands  of  a  certain  person  late  yesterday  afternoon  at  the 
Gymnasium,"  said  Grichine,  significantly.  "  I  knew  them 
by  the  old-fashioned  curve  at  the  end  of  the  runner." 

"  Come,  come,  don't  let  us  waste  any  more  time  talk- 
ing. I  must  either  exchange  skates  with  you,  or  fix 
these ! "  I  cried,  trembling  with  impatience. 

"  Take  mine !  "  exclaimed  Serge,  eagerly. 

"I  fear  they're  a  little  too  short.  Yours,  Porphyre, 
would  be  too  large.  I  should  much  prefer  to  keep  mine, 
as  I  am  used  to  them.  Has  any  one  a  stout  piece  of 
twine?  Quick!  I  have  no  time  to  lose." 

Fortunately  Porphyre' s  capacious  pockets  contained  a 
large  assortment  of  strings.  I  hastily  seized  one,  and 
the  five  minutes  allowed  us  for  rest  had  not  elapsed  be- 
fore I  had  my  skate  fastened  securely,  if  not  elegantly, 
upon  my  foot.  This  time  the  longing  for  victory  was 
mingled  with  a  feeling  of  intense  anger.  Grichine's 
words  had  aroused  a  terrible  suspicion  in  my  mind. 

Could  it  be  that  Capiton  had  done  such  a  contemptible 
thing  as  to  change  or  cut  my  skate-strap  in  order  to  make 
me  lose  the  race  ?  It  seemed  inconceivable ;  but  what  was 
the  meaning  of  his  pallor  and  averted  gaze  just  now? 

"We'll  have  it  out  now,"  I  said,  looking  him  full  in 
the  face  as  we  stood  side  by  side,  ready  to  start.  "  My 
strap  won't  break  this  time." 

He  gave  me  a  strange  glance  in  reply,  and  the  signal 
was  again  given. 

Strodtmann  started  off  with  a  fierce  energy  that  augured 
ill  for  his  ultimate  success.  I  followed  him  swiftly,  with 


238  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

a  heart  burning  with  anger  and  disdain.  Two  minutes 
had  not  passed  before  his  speed  began  to  slacken ;  I  saw 
that  he  was  becoming  tired,  and  I  passed  him  without 
much  effort.  A  recollection  of  his  boast  occurred  to 
me;  and  wishing  to  teach  him  a  lesson,  I  whirled  myself 
around,  and  skated  the  rest  of  the  distance  backward, 
facing  him,  and  reached  the  goal,  while  Capiton,  livid 
and  breathless,  was  still  fifty  feet  from  it. 

A  mighty  shout  rent  the  air.  "  Hurrah !  hurrah !  Bravo ! 
T6rentieff,  bravo !  "  cried  hundreds  of  voices.  My  school- 
mates rushed  forward  to  congratulate  me,  and  Count 
Brovsky  shook  hands  with  me  and  complimented  me  very 
highly  as  he  presented  the  much  coveted  bicycle. 

I  was  not  allowed  to  take  part  in  any  of  the  other  races, 
of  course ;  but  I  remained  to  witness  them,  as  well  as  the 
games  of  divers  kinds  that  followed.  Capiton,  on  the 
contrary,  disappeared  immediately  after  our  race. 

"  I  am  almost  certain  that  it  was  Capiton  who  played 
that  dastardly  trick  on  you,"  remarked  Serge.  "Gri- 
chine  saw  him  with  your  skates  in  his  hands  yesterday 
afternoon  in  the  tool-house.  He  pretended  he  had  taken 
them  by  mistake,  the  miserable  sneak!  " 

In  spite  of  the  delight  I  very  naturally  felt  at  my  suc- 
cess, this  suspicion  annoyed  me  very  much;  but  I  resolved 
to  think  no  more  about  it,  and  to  divert  my  mind.  I 
turned  my  attention  to  the  crowd  that  had  assembled  to 
witness  the  races.  Some  of  these  people  skated  remark- 
ably well,  and  among  the  most  agile  and  graceful  was  a 
young  girl  about  twelve  years  of  age,  handsomely  dressed 
in  a  gray  velvet  pelisse  trimmed  with  costly  fur.  Her 
dainty  head  was  enveloped  in  a  veil  of  silvery  gauze  that 
concealed  her  face,  as  she  darted  about  as  lightly  and 


A  RACE  ON  SKATES.  239 

swiftly  as  a  bird.  An  old  white-haired  gentleman  seemed 
to  have  charge  of  her. 

Suddenly  she  left  her  companion,  and  came  straight 
toward  me,  stopping  short  directly  in  front  of  me. 

"Is  it  possible  you  don't  know  me,  Dmitri? "  she  cried 
joyfully. 

"  Sacha !  Is  it  you  ?  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you 
again !  Whoever  would  have  thought  it  ?  "  I  exclaimed, 
giving  her  a  hearty  hug.  "  My  dear  little  sister,  how 
came  you  here? " 

"We  arrived  in  Moscow  only  two  days  ago.  Mme. 
Lebanoff  was  obliged  to  leave  Nice  very  unexpectedly  to 
come  and  see  an  aunt  who  was  extremely  ill.  She  died 
before  we  reached  Moscow,  however,  so  we  shall  soon 
leave  for  St.  Petersburg.  How  delighted  I  was  when 
you  won  the  race,  dear  Dmitri !  I  recognized  you  the 
minute  I  set  eyes  on  you,  and  I  cried,  'Vive  Terentieff! ' 
until  my  throat  ached." 

"  How  you  've  grown ! "  I  exclaimed,  still  holding  her 
hands  and  gazing  at  her  with  wonder.  "  You  're  quite  a 
fashionable  young  lady  now.  Have  you  forgotten  me, 
Sacha?" 

"Forgotten!  when  not  a  day  passes  that  I  don't  think 
of  you  and  the  happy  years  we  spent  together!  " 

"Will  you  remain  here  some  time?  " 

"Only  a  few  days,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  But  Mme. 
Lebanoff  has  promised  me  that  she  will  go  with  me  to 
M.  Berezoff  s  to  see  you.  I  felt  sure,  too,  that  you 
would  be  here  to-day,  so  I  begged  Arcadion  Semono- 
vitch  to  bring  me.  Come  and  speak  to  him,"  she  added, 
dragging  me  toward  the  old  gentleman. 

I  perceived  now  that    Sacha' s  companion  was   Mme. 


240  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN   RUSSIA. 

Lebanoff'  s  cousin,  the  aged  baron  who  had  accompanied 
the  princess  on  her  visit  to  our  house.  I  bowed  rather 
awkwardly,  for  his  aristocratic  air  intimidated  me  a  little; 
but  he  greeted  me  quite  kindly,  and  told  Sacha  she 
might  have  a  long  talk  while  he  chatted  with  some  of  his 
friends. 

As  we  skated  slowly  along  together,  I  told  Sacha  of 
the  disappointment  and  trials  that  had  attended  my  arri- 
val in  Moscow,  — the  sudden  death  of  my  benefactor,  and 
my  consequent  isolation  and  poverty;  and  also  how  I  had 
managed  to  get  on  without  assistance  from  any  one. 

"My  poor  Mitia!  and  I  have  been  thinking  all  the 
while  that  you  were  living  comfortably  and  even  happily 
in  the  house  of  your  father's  old  friend! "  sighed  Sacha. 

"Oh,  I  'm  getting  along  finely  now;  but  at  first  it  was 
such  a  comfort  to  me  to  know  that  you  were  safe  with 
Mme.  Lebanoff !  But  now  tell  me  about  yourself.  Are 
you  happy?  Do  you  like  your  new  life?  You  look  like 
a  princess  in  a  fairy  tale,"  I  exclaimed  admiringly. 

"  A  queer  princess !  "  laughed  Sacha.  "  Ah,  Mitia,  if 
you  knew  how  long  it  took,  and  how  hard  it  was  to  trans- 
form me  into  a  young  lady, — to  teach  me  to  keep  my  hair 
smooth,  and  my  hands  white,  and  always  wear  a  veil  to 
prevent  my  face  from  chapping,  and  above  all,  never  to 
go  out  alone !  And  then  to  hear  from  morning  till  night : 
'  Sacha,  take  care  of  your  hands,  and  your  hair,  and  your 
figure,  and  your  complexion.'  Oh,  dear!  it  makes  me 
shudder  to  think  of  it  even  now!  But  Mme.  Lebanoff 
and  dear  old  Arcadion  S^monovitch  were  so  kind  and 
good  to  me  when  I  was  dying  of  homesickness,  that  I 
began  to  love  them,  too,  but  not  as  I  loved  you  and  your 
father,  Mitia!  Ah,  no!  Oh,  how  far  away  from  you  I 


DMITRI    AND   SACHA    AT   THE   ICE   CARNIVAL. 


A   RACE  ON  SKATES.  243 

seemed  when  I  was  in  Paris  and  Nice,  and  other  places 
you  scarcely  knew  the  name  of,  my  poor  brother." 

I  asked  Sacha  a  thousand  questions.  She  told  me  how 
difficult  it  had  been  for  her  to  accustom  herself  to  her 
new  life;  how  strange  foreign  cities  had  appeared  to  her; 
and  how  Mme.  Lebanoff  had  called  her  "a  little  sav- 
age," and  laughed  at  her  because  she  could  not  learn  to 
dissolve  her  sugar  in  her  tea,  instead  of  nibbling  it,  peas- 
ant fashion ;  then  the  misery  her  maid  had  caused  her  by 
making  her  change  her  dress  several  times  a  day,  and  by 
squeezing  her  poor  little  feet  into  narrow  shoes.  She 
told  me,  too,  about  her  travels,  — how  beautiful  Paris 
was,  with  its  smooth  streets,  bordered  with  trees;  and 
how  she  had  thought  of  me  at  the  opera;  and  how  the 
gardener  at  the  Lebanoff  villa  in  Nice  had  just  sent  the 
princess  a  bouquet  of  violets  almost  as  big  as  a  cart 
wheel,  etc. 

We  were  still  talking  with  all  our  might  when  Arca- 
dion  Semonovitch  rejoined  us. 

"Come,  Alexandra,  it  is  time  to  go  now,"  he  said 
pleasantly. 

"Oh,  ditdouchka?  already?" 

"  But  you  and  your  friend  have  been  talking  nearly  an 
hour,  and  it  is  considerably  past  Mme.  Lebanoff 's  tea- 
time.  Your  friend  must  come  and  call  on  you.  We  are 
at  the  Hotel  Ralemine  on  the  Boulevard  Tversko'i,  and 
the  princess  will  be  glad  to  see  you,"  he  added  courte- 
ously, turning  to  me. 

"Oh,  dear  Arcadion,  can't  he  come  now?"  pleaded 
Sacha. 

"Certainly,  my  dear,  if  you  desire  it,"  replied  the  old 

1  "  Dear  little  uncle." 


244  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

gentleman,  politely;  but  I  fancied  he  did  not  greet  the 
proposal  very  enthusiastically. 

Just  then  Porphyre,  who  had  been  watching  us  from  a 
distance,  concluded  that  it  would  be  a  good  time  to  join 
us,  so  he  started  toward  us  at  a  high  rate  of  speed ;  but 
just  as  he  reached  us  he  stumbled  and  fell  sprawling  at 
our  feet.  I  helped  him  up;  he  had  a  big  lump  on  his 
forehead,  his  nose  was  bleeding,  and  he  nearly  overturned 
us  in  his  frantic  efforts  to  regain  his  equilibrium. 

"I  always  was  the  most  unlucky  fellow  alive,"  he  mur- 
mured penitently,  as  he  and  Sacha  shook  hands. 

"You  are  the  same  Porphyre,  I  see,"  she  said,  a  little 
mischievously.  "Come,  we  must  go  now." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  carriage.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  I  shrank  from  the  thought  of  confronting  the  prin- 
cess, but  I  could  not  disappoint  Sacha. 

The  baron  motioned  me  to  enter  the  vehicle,  and  I  in- 
stalled myself  on  the  front  seat.  Imagine  my  surprise 
when  I  saw  Porphyre  follow  us  into  the  carriage,  and 
drop  heavily  on  the  cushions,  stepping,  of  course,  upon 
Arcadion  Semonovitch's  gouty  toes  as  he  did  so. 

"  What  assurance !  "  I  thought  angrily.  "  My  own  in- 
vitation was  by  no  means  pressing,  and  now  this  great 
simpleton  must  needs  force  himself  in,  and  make  me 
ridiculous ! " 

The  old  gentleman  rubbed  his  injured  foot,  making  a 
significant  grimace  the  while.  The  distance  to  the  Boule- 
vard Tversko'f  was  traversed  in  a  silence  broken  only  by 
Porphyre's  stentorian  breathing.  This  was  a  habit  of  his 
when  he  was  particularly  well  pleased. 

The  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  a  handsome  house,  or 
rather  palace.  Two  tall  powdered  footmen  in  scarlet 


A  RACE  ON  SK4TES.  245 

livery  relieved  us  of  our  wrappings.  I  can  still  see 
our  shabby  overcoats  hanging  in  the  hall  beside  Mme. 
Lebanoff' s  costly  pelisse  trimmed  with  blue  fox!  And 
how  well  I  remember  the  supercilious  air  with  which  the 
lackeys  watched  us  while  we  were  taking  off  our  caps ! 

"Come,"  said  Sacha;  and  taking  me  by  the  hand  she 
led  me  up  a  richly  carpeted  staircase,  decorated  with 
beautiful  flowering  plants  in  handsome  china  vases. 

On  reaching  the  first  landing  Sacha  paused,  lifted  a 
portiere,  and  after  hurriedly  crossing  a  large  salon, 
ushered  me  into  a  smaller  apartment,  where  Mme. 
Lebanoff,  attired  in  a  loose  robe  nearly  covered  with 
lace,  was  half -reclining  in  an  immense  armchair,  smok- 
ing a  cigarette. 

"  So  here  you  are  at  last,  my  dear !  How  long  you 
stayed !  Tea  was  ready  long  ago.  But  who  is  this  you 
have  with  you  ?  "  she  continued,  taking  her  long  handled 
eye-glass  from  her  belt,  to  inspect  me. 
•  "  It  is  Dmitri !  "  cried  Sacha,  joyously.  "  I  met  him 
on  the  ice." 

"Indeed?"  said  the  princess,  lowering  her  lorgnette; 
"  but  that  other  person,  who  is  he  ? " 

For  Porphyre's  big,  round  face  appeared  just  at  that 
moment  between  the  draperies  that  covered  the  door. 

"That  is  Porphyre.     He  is  from  Sitovka,  too." 

"Ah,  well,  give  us  all  some  tea,  my  dear,"  said 
Mme.  Lebanoff.  "Sit  down,  young  gentlemen." 

I  obeyed  as  quietly  as  possible ;  but  Porphyre  dropped 
into  an  armchair  with  a  thud  that  made  the  springs  creak 
noisily. 

Standing  by  the  little  table  that  held  the  tray  and  sam- 
ovar, Sacha  began  to  pour  the  tea.  I  watched  her  admir- 


246  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

ingly ;  she  seemed  so  perfectly  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  all 
this  luxury,  handling  the  frail  and  costly  china  as  if  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  it  from  her  birth. 

A  lamentable  disaster  suddenly  disturbed  this  delight- 
ful state  of  things.  Porphyre  approached  the  table  to  get 
his  cup  of  tea;  and  after  bending  over  it  and  inhaling  its 
delicious  aroma  for  a  minute  or  two  with  evident  delight, 
he  was  about  to  pour  it  out  in  his  saucer  to  cool,  after 
the  Sitovka  fashion,  when  the  very  calamity  I  had  appre- 
hended occurred.  His  cup  fell  from  his  ringers,  shatter- 
ing those  on  the  table  in  its  fall,  and  the  tea  ran  down  on 
the  carpet,  and  even  splashed  upon  the  Princess  Lebanoff's 
white  dress. 

In  the  confusion  that  followed,  Sacha  got  us  out  of  the 
room,  and  I  left  the  house  more  dead  than  alive,  taking 
Porphyre  with  me.  On  reaching  the  street,  I  gave  vent 
to  my  exasperation  by  thumping  him  fiercely  in  the  side; 
but  he  showed  no  inclination  to  retaliate.  He  only  re- 
peated again  and  again  in  melancholy,  even  despairing 
tones,  — 

"  What  else  could  you  expect  of  a  fellow  who  never  has 
any  luck? " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

.GRICHINE'S  SECRET. 

T  DID  not  see  Capiton  again  until  I  met  him  the  following 
day  at  the  Gymnasium.  He  colored  a  little  and  ap- 
peared a  trifle  embarrassed  on  seeing  me ;  but  to  my  great 
surprise,  he  came  up  and  offered  me  his  hand  in  the 
presence  of  all  our  schoolmates,  and  even  congratulated 
me  on  my  success  of  the  previous  day.  His  manner,  which 
had  been  so  sneering  and  contemptuous  heretofore,  was 
now  polite,  and  even  obsequious.  It  was  evident  that  he 
succeeded  in  creating  the  impression  he  desired ;  that  is  to 
say,  in  impressing  such  of  our  schoolmates  as  did  not  know 
him  intimately  with  the  belief  that  he  was  a  generous, 
whole-souled  fellow,  who  could  rejoice  at  a  comrade's 
success,  even  at  his  own  expense.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  that  Capiton's  conduct  was  considered  worthy  of  all 
praise. 

As  for  me,  I  must  confess  that  I  could  not  change  my 
manner  or  my  opinion  so  suddenly.  I  am  not  fickle 
naturally.  I  honestly  believe  that  I  do  not  become  angry 
without  good  cause;  but  once  offended  it  is  difficult  for 
me  to  forgive,  and  especially  to  forget;  besides,  I  did  not 
have  much  faith  in  the  sincerity  of  Capiton's  protestations, 
and  the  only  effect  they  had  upon  me  was  to  extort  a 
slight  grimace. 


248  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

But  what  was  I  to  do?  Could  I,  the  victor,  meet  the 
generous  advances  of  the  vanquished  in  a  hostile  and 
suspicious  manner?  No,  certainly  not.  And  though  I  did 
not  entertain  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  Strodtmann  had 
endeavored  to  insure  my  defeat  by  a  trick  unworthy  of  an 
honorable  opponent,  the  fact  that  I  had  won  closed  my 
lips  effectually.  I  could  not  gain  the  much-coveted  prize, 
and  at  the  same  time  feel  much  animosity  against  my  rival 
for  having  done  everything  in  his  power  to  secure  it  for 
himself,  —  especially  as  he  had  not  succeeded.  But  in 
spite  of  all  these  arguments,  and  my  sincere  desire  to 
meet  his  advances  cordially,  I  found  it  impossible  to  do  so. 
Deception  is  not  my  forte ;  but  though  I  treated  him  with 
marked  coldness,  he  did  not  appear  to  take  offence. 
Quite  the  contrary ;  from  that  time,  he  always  spoke  of  me 
in  the  highest  terms,  asking  my  advice,  and  praising  my 
strength  and  my  skill  in  all  sorts  of  sports,  upon  all 
occasions. 

Though  I  detected,  or  fancied  I  detected,  a  tinge  of 
irony  in  all  his  compliments,  I  seemed  to  be  the  only 
person  who  entertained  any  such  suspicion.  Even  toward 
Porphyre,  the  former  butt  of  his  bitter  raillery,  his  manner 
changed,  becoming  less  and  less  contemptuous  until  it 
degenerated  into  indifference,  and  they  exchanged  scarcely 
three  words  a  month.  Both  Porphyre  and  Grichine  were 
firmly  convinced  that  my  skate-strap  had  been  cut  on  the 
under  side  in  such  a  way  that  it  would  yield  to  the  slight- 
est strain,  though  it  appeared  as  strong  as  ever;  and 
neither  of  them  felt  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  but  that  Capiton 
was  the  perpetrator  of  the  outrage.  Although  I  agreed 
with  them  perfectly,  I  begged  them  as  a  personal  favor  to 
say  nothing  about  the  affair,  and  they  complied  with  my 


GRICHINE'S  SECRET.  249 

request.  Serge,  who  happened  to  be  with  me  when 
Capiton  rushed  up  to  shake  hands  and  congratulate  me, 
never  spoke  to  him  afterwards  except  in  the  most  frigid 
manner.  He  did  not  state  his  reasons ;  but  it  was  easy  for 
me  to  divine  them. 

I  believe  Capiton  understood  them  quite  as  well  as  I  did  ; 
but  "  there  are  none  so  blind  as  those  who  won't  see,"  and 
he  never  betrayed  by  the  slightest  sign  .his  knowledge 
that  Serge  Kratkine,  the  most  highly  respected  and  hon- 
orable boy  in  the  Second  Class,  entertained  a  profound 
contempt  for  him. 

But  in  spite  of  his  pretended  affability,  when  I  suddenly 
glanced  up  from  my  book,  I  sometimes  found  his  cold, 
gray  eyes  fixed  upon  me  with  such  a  peculiar  expression 
that  I  wondered  what  evil  he  could  be  plotting  in  his 
secret  heart. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  I  had  not  ventured  to  present 
myself  at  Mme.  Lebanofifs  house  again.  The  sorry  figure 
we  cut  at  our  debut  was  not  calculated  to  encourage  a 
taste  for  visiting;  so  I  waited  with  no  little  impatience  for  a 
message  from  Sacha  telling  me  when  I  could  see  her 
again.  I  dared  not  write  and  give  her  my  address,  for  I 
feared  that  we  had  gotten  her  into  trouble  already  by  our 
uncouthness;  and  knowing  she  did  not  expect  to  remain 
in  Moscow  very  long,  I  began  to  fear  that  she  had  left 
without  bidding  me  farewell. 

But  on  leaving  the  Gymnasium  at  noon,  just  one  week 
after  Count  Brovsky's  fete,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Sacha  walking  in  the  square  opposite,  accompanied  by 
Arcadion  Semonovitch.  The  carriage  was  waiting  for  them 
at  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  and  Snap,  whom  all  Gav- 
ruchka's  abuse  could  never  drive  from  his  post,  was 


2$O  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

gambolling  around  them.  Every  day  he  accompanied  me 
to  the  Gymnasium,  and  stationing  himself  by  the  gate 
waited  patiently  until  school  was  dismissed.  No  friend 
less  dear  to  him  than  my  little  sister  could  have  induced 
him  to  abandon  his  post  even  for  a  moment. 

Sacha  ran  to  meet  me  as  soon  as  I  left  the  building,  and 
then  we  both  walked  slowly  toward  the  baron. 

"  Did  you  get  a  scolding  the  other  day?"  I  asked  before 
we  reached  the  old  gentleman.  "  How  sorry  I  am  that  I 
went  to  the  princess's  house  !  It  was  such  a  pity  for  you 
to  get  in  disgrace  on  our  account." 

"  But  I  was  n't  scolded,  that  is,  not  exactly.  Daria 
Alexandrovna  did  say  that  —  that  —  " 

"That  we  should  never  set  foot  in  her  house  again?" 
I  said,  laughing,  for  Sacha  had  paused  for  fear  of  hurt- 
ing my  feelings. 

She  nodded  assent. 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  blame  her.  Visitors  of  our  stamp 
must  terrify  the  mistress  of  a  house  like  hers.  But  how 
kind  Arcadion  Semonovitch  was  to  bring  you  here  !  We  're 
not  likely  to  do  any  damage  out  of  doors,  —  that's  one 
comfort,  —  unless  we  step  on  his  feet." 

"Yes,  wasn't  it  good  of  him?  You've  no  idea  how 
kind  he  is  to  me !  Arcadion  S6monovitch,  here  is  Dmitri, 
still  blushing  with  shame  for  his  exploits  of  the  other  day." 

"  He  was  not  to  blame,"  said  the  old  nobleman,  kindly 
offering  me  his  hand ;  "  it  was  the  other  young  man,  it 
seems  to  me.  There  he  comes  now  !  "  he  added,  prudently 
placing  himself  out  of  harm's  way  behind  me.  For  Por- 
phyre  was  rushing  toward  us  with  a  radiant  face.  A  mo- 
ment more,  and  he  had  greeted  our  friends  without  the 
slightest  embarrassment. 


GRICHINE'S  SECRET.  2$  I 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  Snap  again,"  said  M.  Bekou- 
nine;  "  I  had  no  idea  that  he  would  ever  recover  entirely. 
You  must  have  taken  great  care  of  him,  Dmitri  Fedorovitch. 
He  is  a  fine  animal,  and  he  does  you  great  credit." 

I  told  them  of  my  dog's  fidelity,  Snap  listening  all  the 
while,  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  my  face  as  if  he  understood 
me  —  and  I,  for  my  part,  have  never  doubted  that  dogs 
understand  what  is  said  to  them,  as  well  as,  and  even  better 
than,  many  human  beings,  —  and  explained  at  the  same  time 
how  Porphyre  happened  to  come  to  Moscow.  Snap  was 
petted  and  caressed  to  his  heart's  content,  and  I  could  see 
that  Arcadion  Semonovitch  was  disposed  to  regard  my  com- 
rade with  more  favorable  eyes.  He  finally  invited  both  of 
us  to  take  breakfast  at  a  restaurant  with  him  and  Sacha. 

Capiton  Strodtmann  passed  just  as  we  were  stepping 
into  the  carriage,  and  an  expression  of  admiration  and 
envy  was  very  apparent  on  his  face  when  he  saw  the 
luxurious  equipage.  He  was  evidently  much  surprised 
to  see  me  in  such  aristocratic  company.  Had  he  known 
how  generous  and  loving  the  heart  of  my  little  sister  was, 
he  would  have  had  much  more  reason  to  envy  me. 

Aside  from  a  few  blunders  on  Porphyre's  part,  such  as 
upsetting  a  decanter  of  wine  on  the  tablecloth,  breaking 
several  plates  and  glasses,  and  burning  his  tongue  fright- 
fully with  a  cup  of  hot  chocolate,  the  breakfast  passed  off 
very  pleasantly,  After  it  was  over,  Sacha  bade  me  a  sor- 
rowful farewell.  The  princess  was  to  leave  for  the  south 
of  France  the  following  day,  and  it  was  impossible  to  say 
when  she  would  return  to  Russia. 

I  pause  in  my  story  to  cast  a  hasty  glance  over  the 
years  that  followed.  They  were  marked  by  no  event  of 


252  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

importance;  the  time  seems  to  have  glided  by  like  a 
dream,  transporting  me  gradually  from  childhood  to  the 
verge  of  manhood;  conducting  me,  too,  with  stealthy 
steps  to  the  gloomy  cell  in  which  these  lines  are  penned. 
These  pleasant  reminiscences  of  bygone  days  have  made 
me  for  a  time  forget  the  gloomy  present.  But  what  will 
be  the  end  of  all  this?  Shall  I  ever  leave  this  prison- 
house  with  my  honor  completely  vindicated?  Who  is 
the  real  culprit?  Will  he  ever  be  discovered?  Why  am 
I  imprisoned  in  his  stead?  Will  any  one  ever  know? 

And  Maestro  Nepomuk,  Serge,  Porphyre,  my  other 
schoolmates,  and  my  teachers  —  what  do  they  think  of  this 
affair?  What  has  become  of  my  poor  dog?  Sometimes 
I  fancy  I  hear,  even  through  these  massive  walls,  a  lugu- 
brious howl  which  I  recognize  as  his.  Poor  faithful 
friend!  what  does  he  think  of  my  desertion? 

I  am  kept  in  solitary  confinement;  I  see  no  one  except 
the  jailor  who  brings  me  my  coarse  food,  and  he  never 
speaks  to  me. 

Courage,  Dmitri,  courage !  Let  us  return  to  the  past, 
so  I  can  forget  my  gloomy  surroundings,  and  the  clouds 
that  enshroud  the  future. 

I  have  only  a  vague  recollection  of  the  events  of  the 
last  few  years,  however.  Though  I  can  distinctly  recall 
even  the  most  trifling  incidents  of  my  childhood,  —  the 
weather  on  such  or  such  a  day,  entire  conversations  with 
my  father  and  others,  the  exact  appearance  of  such  or 
such  a  spot  in  the  surrounding  country,  a  tune  played  on 
the  guitar  in  the  house  of  some  acquaintance,  and  the 
faces  of  my  earliest  friends,  —  my  last  years  at  the  Gymna- 
sium seem  void  of  incident.  It  seems  to  me  that  my 


GRICHINE'S  SECRET.  253 

comrades  and  I  have  been  undergoing  such  a  rapid  change 
that  it  is  impossible  to  paint  our  portraits  in  any  perma- 
nent colors.  Who  is  this  youth  in  shabby  attire,  who 
grows  and  grows  as  if  he  had  no  idea  of  ever  stopping? 
It  seems  to  me  that  I  know  his  face,  and  yet  I  scarcely 
dare  to  assert  that  it  is  really  I.  What  are  his  opinions 
concerning  life  and  society  and  his  surroundings?  Does 
he  possess  a  single  idea  in  common  with  my  former  self? 
Yes;  his  love  of  music  still  predominates  over  all  other 
sentiments;  all  nature  breathes  forth  a  melody  to  which 
his  ear  never  tires  of  listening;  and  as  the  months  and 
years  transform  the  child  into  a  shy  and  awkward  youth, 
and  then  into  a  strong,  robust  young  man,  his  dreamy 
nature  undergoes  no  change.  He  still  has  the  same  diffi- 
culty in  fixing  his  mind  on  material  things;  that  ever- 
present  x  has  lost  none  of  its  terrors. 

He  passes  from  the  Second  Class  into  the  First,  pain- 
fully and  laboriously  surmounting  each  step  leading  up  to 
that  terrible  final  examination  of  which  he  stands  in  such 
mortal  dread.  He  plods  grimly  on,  however;  but  music 
still  retains  her  hold  upon  him,  and  if  he  devotes  an  hour 
to  his  studies,  an  irresistible  power  compels  him  to  devote 
at  least  three  times  as  long  to  his  beloved  art.  The  sym- 
phony is  progressing ;  it  is  nearly  finished  now,  and  one 
of  these  days  I  intend  to  submit  it  to  my  master  for  criti- 
cism. What  will  he  think  of  it?  Is  there  really  anything 
in  Dmitri  Terentieff's  music?  Is  it  worthy  to  have  a  place 
among  the  works  of  the  great  composers,  or  is  it,  alas ! 
only  the  empty  sound  of  a  tinkling  cymbal? 

And  this  young  man  with  calm  thoughtful  eyes  and 
frank,  honest  face,  —  this  young  man  who  is  always  quiet, 
sincere,  and  composed,  who  is  always  at  the  head  of  his 


254  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

class,  and  who  excels  in  everything,  as  he  once  told 
Dmitri  that  he  ought  to  do?  It  is  my  friend  Serge.  He 
has  never  passed  through  any  rough  and  uncouth  transi- 
tion period,  or  been  a  prey  to  any  unreasonable  and  absurd 
fancies.  Resolved  to  succeed  in  order  that  he  might  not 
disappoint  his  father's  hopes  in  regard  to  him,  he  has 
marched  steadily  and  firmly  on  toward  the  appointed  goal. 
How  many  wise  counsels  he  has  given  me,  —  though  never 
in  a  tone  of  offensive  superiority !  What  a  kindly  interest 
he  feels  in  everything  that  concerns  me !  We  are  as  united 
in  feeling  as  two  brothers ;  anything  that  affects  me  affects 
him.  He  takes  even  more  interest  in  my.  symphony  than 
I  do  myself,  I  believe ;  and  he  guards  the  secret  of  my 
musical  aspiration  with  jealous  care.  I  confide  my  hopes 
to  no  one  but  him ;  and  Serge  would  allow  himself  to  be 
torn  in  pieces  rather  that  betray  my  confidence. 

This  big  fellow  with  a  round  ruddy  face,  whose  growth 
suddenly  ceased  while  he  was  only  in  the  Second  Class,  is 
my  old  friend  Porphyre.  I  hasten  to  add  that  it  is  only  in 
height  that  he  has  ceased  to  grow.  In  breadth,  he  in- 
creases so  rapidly  that  it  almost  seems  as  if  one  could  see 
him  grow.  He  will  soon  be  broader  than  he  is  long;  and 
in  spite  of  his  desperate  efforts  to  keep  them  together,  his 
garments,  which  are  always  too  tight  for  him,  burst  open 
with  every  movement,  and  make  him  the  laughing-stock  of 
the  school.  He  ought  to  diet  himself,  as  I  often  tell  him; 
but  he  has  a  remarkably  good  appetite,  and  he  won't 
listen  to  me. 

We  still  live  together,  and  study  at  the  same  rough  pine 
table.  Occasionally  a  sudden  desire  to  move  about  takes 
possession  of  us,  and  without  saying  a  word,  we  spring 
up  and  wrestle  with  each  other  until  one  of  us  bites  the 


GRICHINE'S  SECRET.  255 

dust;  then,  refreshed  by  this  interlude,  we  set  to  work 
again. 

Poor  Porphyre !  as  he  grows  older  he  seems  to  pay  less 
and  less  attention  to  his  personal  appearance.  Unkempt 
and  untidy,  with  his  boots  always  run  down  at  the  heel,  he 
is  the  very  type  of  a  certain  set  of  students ;  but  he  stands 
well  in  his  classes,  nevertheless.  He  is  very  intelligent ;  his 
teachers  all  like  him ;  and  he  often  obtains  excellent  marks 
when  boys  who  consider  themselves  greatly  his  superiors 
are  forced  to  hide  their  diminished  heads. 

Porphyre  and  Grichine  are  still  unseparable,  though  they 
tease  and  tantalize  each  other  as  much  as  ever.  Grichine 
persisted  in  his  strange  behavior  at  Dame  Goltchov's  table, 
and  for  a  long  time  Porphyre  and  I  were  the  only  persons 
who  would  address  a  word  to  him.  One  day  Porphyre 
determined  to  solve  the  mystery,  and  stealthily  followed 
his  friend,  impelled  doubtless  by  a  grim  desire  to  see  a 
human  being  partake  of  such  loathsome  food. 

Grichine,  suspecting  nothing,  walked  on,  whistling  blithely, 
until  he  reached  a  tumble-down  hut  in  a  narrow,  dingy 
street.  Grichine  entered  the  hut,  and  Porphyre,  who  was 
close  at  his  heels,  peered  through  a  crack  in  the  door. 
And  what  did  he  see?  A  poor,  half-naked,  emaciated 
old  man  lying  on  a  rude  pallet,  with  several  half-starved, 
hollow-eyed,  pale-faced  children  crowding  around  him,  all 
engaged  in  voraciously  devouring  the  contents  of  the  brown 
paper  bag.  How  they  smacked  their  lips  over  the  scraps 
of  fat !  how  eagerly  they  licked  their  fingers  !  how  ardently 
they  wished  there  had  been  more  of  it!  And  Grichine, 
brave  fellow,  stood  and  watched  them  with  almost  paternal 
satisfaction.  He  spoke  encouraging  words  to  them;  he 
laughed  and  jested  with  them ;  and  they,  in  turn,  clung  to 


256  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

his  garments  and  embraced  him.  They  loved  him  de- 
votedly, that  was  evident;  and  Grichine  was  so  gay  and 
affectionate  in  his  manner  toward  them  that  big  tears 
mounted  to  Porphyre's  eyes,  and  he  began  to  blubber,  like 
the  big  calf  that  he  is. 

Grichine  heard  him,  and  ran  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
He  seemed  overwhelmed  with  confusion  when  he  found 
that  his  secret  was  discovered ;  but  when  Porphyre  fell  up- 
on his  neck,  nearly  smothering  him  in  his  embrace,  and 
told  him,  in  faltering  accents,  how  greatly  Grichine's 
depraved  taste  had  troubled  him,  but  how  valiantly  he 
had  always  defended  him,  Grichine  laughed  heartily. 

"  No,  it  was  n't  very  pleasant  to  be  ostracized,  and  to 
have  people  regard  you  as  a  sort  of  monster,"  he  said 
frankly ;  "  but,  you  see,  I  had  nothing  to  give  these  poor 
creatures.  It  is  all  I  can  do  to  support  my  mother ;  and  it 
made  my  heart  ache  to  see  the  poor  little  brats  crying  for 
food.  They  're  not  fastidious,  neither  is  the  poor  grand- 
father; and  the  stuff  keeps  them  alive,  after  all." 

The  old  grandfather  was  eloquent  in  his  praises.  He 
told  how  kind  Grichine  had  been  to  them,  how  he  never 
forgot  them,  and  how  he  was  always  denying  himself  in 
order  that  he  might  have  something  to  give  to  the  little 
ones;  but  Grichine  soon  became  tired  of  listening  to 
these  eulogiums,  and  dragged  Porphyre  away. 

"  But  I  've  seen  you  eat  fat  at  old  Goltchov's,"  the  latter 
said  to  him.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  like  it?  " 

Grichine  made  a  frightful  grimace.  "  I  'd  rather  swallow 
live  serpents,"  he  replied ;  "  but  I  had  to  force  myself  to 
eat  it.  If  I  had  n't,  it  would  n't  have  seemed  natural  for  me 
to  take  away  the  scraps." 

Then  he  laughed. 


GRICHIXE   AXD   HIS  PROTEGEES. 


GRICHINE'S  SECRET.  259 

"  It  is  real  funny  to  see  the  faces  you  all  make !  "  he 
added,  with  a  laugh ;  but  Porphyre  notices  that  there  is  a 
suspicious  moisture  in  his  friend's  eyes,  and  he  cannot  say 
much  himself,  —  he  is  too  deeply  moved. 

He  hurries  home  and  tells  me  all  about  it.  Poor 
Grichine  !  his  kindness  of  heart  and  his  courage  touch  me 
deeply.  Serge  too,  hears  the  story,  and  soon  the  whole 
school  know  all  about  it.  A  subscription  is  started  for  our 
schoolmate's  proteges;  each  student  gives  what  he  can, 
and  a  very  nice  little  sum  of  money  is  raised.  A  meeting 
is  held,  and  the  money  is  formally  presented  to  poor 
Grichine,  who  is  overwhelmed  with  embarrassment,  and 
Serge  preaches  us  a  very  neat  little  sermon. 

"  Grichine  has  set  us  a  most  excellent  example.  Let  us 
see  that  we  follow  it.  The  poorest  among  us  has  found 
one  who  is  still  poorer,  upon  whom  to  bestow  his  charity. 
He  has  denied  himself;  he  has  made  all  sorts  of  sacrifices, 
and  subjected  himself  to  the  most  cruel  ridicule,  in  order  to 
alleviate  the  sufferings  of  this  old  man  and  his  children. 
Shall  we  be  less  generous?  \_Cries  of  No!  No!  No!~\ 
Then  let  us  give,  each  one  of  us,  every  month,  a  stated 
amount,  according  to  our  means,  a  rouble,  a  grivenik, 
or  even  a  kopeck,  to  support  these  poor  people.  Let 
them  be  regarded,  henceforth,  as  wards  of  Saint- Vladimir ; 
and  may  everlasting  disgrace  be  our  portion  if  we  fail  to 
rescue  them  from  their  misery  !  "  (  Wild  applause.  The 
motion  is  carried  unanimously^) 

Grichine  is  radiant ;  and  everybody  else  is  well  pleased, 
for  we  are  all  fond  of  Grichine ;  and  Porphyre  is  so  proud 
of  his  friend  that  he  can  scarcely  contain  himself. 

Capiton,  who  is  rich,  gives  like  all  the  others,  but  he 
does  it  with  a  rather  contemptuous  air.  He  grows  more 


260  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

and  more  conceited  every  day.  He  is  one  of  the  hand- 
somest fellows  in  school,  unquestionably.  He  is  as  tall  as 
I  am ;  his  features  are  regular,  his  figure  is  admirably  pro- 
portioned, and  his  attire  irreproachable.  There  is  no 
trouble  about  his  neck  and  ears  now,  —  he  is  the  greatest  of 
dandies.  His  jackets  are  the  admiration  and  despair  of  his 
classmates ;  his  short  cane  is  a  work  of  art ;  his  white  cap, 
—  for  he,  too,  is  a  First  Class  boy  now  —  is  immaculate, 
and  the  pearl  horseshoe  he  wears  in  his  scarf  makes  us 
wild  with  envy.  A  light  down  is  visible  on  his  upper  lip- 
In  short,  Capiton  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  paragon,  — 
not  in  his  classes,  however,  for  his  marks  are  deplorable, 
and  he  gets  a  zero  with  appalling  regularity. 

But  speaking  of  beards,  he  is  not  the  only  person  who 
can  boast  of  this  adornment.  I  drag  Porphyre  to  the 
window  one  morning,  and  examine  him  closely.  Yes, 
there  is  a  soft  yellow  down  on  his  fat  cheeks  !  Porphyre, 
too,  has  a  beard  !  A  fierce  spirit  of  emulation  seizes  me.  I 
shave  every  morning ;  I  scratch  my  face  cruelly,  and  cover 
it  with  strips  of  court  plaster.  If  any  one  asks  me  what 
the  matter  is,  I  calmly  reply,  "  Only  a  scratch,  —  I  did  it 
this  morning  while  I  was  shaving."  But  too  often  I  see,  or 
fancy  I  see,  doubt  and  amusement  in  my  questioner's  eyes; 
for  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts,  my  chin  remains  as  smooth  as 
a  hen's  egg.  This  fact  makes  me  gloomy  and  morose,  and 
I  compose  a  funeral  march  that  reduces  Porphyre  to  the 
depths  of  despair  when  I  play  it  to  him. 

Meanwhile  the  time  for  the  final  examination  is  ap- 
proaching. It  is  the  one  topic  of  conversation ;  and  even 
the  most  idle  of  our  students  set  to  work.  I  neglect  my 
music ;  I  even  forget  to  watch  the  growth  of  an  incipient 
mustache ;  I  allow  myself  only  five  hours  for  sleep.  The 


GRICHINE'S  SECRET.  261 

chances  of  each  and  every  student  are  eagerly  discussed. 
Serge  is  sure  to  pass,  and  so  is  Porphyre.  Capiton  will 
fail,  unquestionably.  Platon  Gregorov  and  I  may  pass,  if 
we  work,  but  there  must  be  no  more  idling.  We  all  study 
like  mad,  though  the  examination  will  not  take  place 
until  the  beginning  of  the  next  academic  year. 

One  morning,  about  two  months  ago,  I  was  a  little  late, 
and  when  I  reached  the  Gymnasium,  Gavruchka  was  just 
closing  the  door;  but  I  sprang  forward  and  just  succeeded 
in  getting  inside  before  it  was  too  late.  All  my  papers  fell 
to  the  ground ;  and  as  I  was  chasing  the  flying  sheets,  I 
saw  Gavruchka  slam  the  grated  door  directly  in  the  face  of 
Capiton,  who  had  just  made  his  appearance,  panting  and 
breathless.  The  latter  entreated  Gavruchka  to  let  him  in  ; 
but  the  janitor  was  inexorable,  and  Capiton,  taking  a  gold 
imperial  1  from  his  pocket,  held  it  out  to  him  through  the 
bars. 

"  Here,  take  this,  and  open  the  door,"  he  said  insolently. 

There  was  a  profound  silence.  I  turned  and  looked  at 
Gavruchka.  His  face  was  distorted  with  rage.  For  an 
instant  he  seemed  unable  to  move ;  then  seizing  the  coin  he 
flung  it  violently  in  Capiton's  face. 

"Wretch!  how  dare  you  offer  me  money?"  he  roared. 
"  What  do  you  take  me  for?  Money!  money  to  an  old 
soldier  like  me !  Clear  out,  you  abominable  cur,  clear 
out,  I  say !  " 

He  was  nearly  suffocated  with  rage.  Capiton's  face  was 
livid.  He  darted  a  venomous  glance  at  Gavruchka,  then 
turned  and  strode  angrily  away.  I  stood  for  a  moment  as 
if  petrified,  for  Gavruchka's  distress  pained  me.  The  insult 

1  A  gold  coin  worth  about  four  dollars. 


262  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

seemed  to  have  cut  him  to  the  heart.  I  have  never 
mentioned  the  unfortunate  occurrence  to  any  one.  I  am 
not  even  sure  that  Capiton  knows  I  witnessed  it.  This 
much  is  certain,  he  has  never  once  alluded  to  it  in  my 
presence. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE  TRIAL. 

I  HAVE  arrived  at  the  end  of  my  reminiscences.  I  have 
frankly  and  faithfully  revealed  my  secret  thoughts  and 
motives,  as  well  as  my  acts.  I  have  forced  myself  to  speak 
honestly  and  sincerely,  but  without  anger,  of  those  whose 
past  conduct  give  me  the  right  to  call  them  my  enemies. 
My  confession  has  been  a  great  resource  to  me  during  the 
depressing  hours  I  have  spent  here;  it  has  assisted  me 
wonderfully  in  enduring  the  gloom  of  the  dreary  existence 
I  have  led  for  more  than  a  month. 

I  told  my  teachers  the  truth  on  the  morning  of  my 
arrest.  I  repeat  it  here  to  myself,  face  to  face  with  my 
own  conscience.  Upon  my  word  of  honor,  I  am  not 
responsible  for  Gavruchka's  injuries.  I  have  not  seen  him 
since  eight  o'clock  that  evening,  the  hour  when  he  refused 
me  admission  to  the  study  hall.  He  seemed  to  be  in  per- 
fect health  when  he  closed  the  door  behind  me.  I  have  no 
idea  how  he  was  injured.  I  know  nothing,  absolutely  noth- 
ing of  the  joke  that  was  played  upon  him  in  my  name. 

Though  I  have  my  suspicions  in  regard  to  the  person 
who  imitated  my  writing,  and  thus  cast  the  odium  of  the 
crime  on  me,  it  does  not  behoove  me  to  reveal  them.  The 
task  of  discovering  the  true  culprit  belongs  to  the  authori- 
ties. I  shall  repeat  once  more  what  I  have  already  said. 


264  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

If  they  insult  me  by  doubting  my  word,  I  am  resolved  to 
keep  silence ;  I  will  not  so  lower  myself  as  to  argue  the 
matter;  I  will  not  allow  any  one  to  doubt  my  word. 
Strong  in  the  approval  of  my  own  conscience,  I  will  bravely 
endure  such  punishment  as  they  may  see  fit  to  inflict  upon 
me.  I  can  endure  it  much  better  innocent  than  guilty. 

My  father,  my  dear  sister  Sacha,  my  old  friends,  you 
would  never  have  doubted  me  !  You  know  —  do  you  not? 
—  that  if  I  were  guilty,  I  should  be  the  first  to  admit  it. 

8  P.  M.  Ten  days  later.  The  first  day  of  my  trial  is 
over.  Nothing  is  yet  decided,  but  what  happiness  I  felt 
to-day !  It  is  well  to  suffer,  if  our  sufferings  teach  us  to 
know  and  appreciate  our  friends.  How  I  thank  you  all  \ 
When  I  heard  your  dear  voices  after  the  long,  death-like 
silence  of  my  prison  cell,  I  could  hardly  restrain  my  tears. 
But  I  never  once  bowed  my  head  under  this  unjust  accusa- 
tion !  Never  did  I  feel  more  proud  or  composed  than  at 
the  hour  when  my  only  support  and  consolation  were  the 
approval  of  my  own  conscience,  and  the  absolute  certainty 
that  my  hands  are  unstained  by  this  foul  deed. 

Poor  old  Gavruchka !  who  ever  would  have  supposed 
that  I  was  destined  to  suffer  thus  on  your  account?  I  bear 
him  no  ill-will  for  his  past  tyranny,  —  his  misfortunes  have 
blotted  out  all  remembrance  of  that;  and  he,  too,  if  he 
could  regain  consciousness,  would  gladly  testify  to  my 
innocence,  —  I  am  sure  of  that.  Who  could  have  injured 
the  poor  old  man  so  cruelly?  Why  must  he  remain  silent, 
perhaps  forever,  when  he  may  be  the  only  person  who  can 
enlighten  us? 

This  morning  I  was  startled  by  the  harsh  grating  of  a 
key  in  the  lock ;  and  by  the  dim  light  that  stole  through 


THE  TRIAL.  265 

my  tiny  window,  I  saw  the  jailer  enter  my  cell,  accompanied 
by  several  soldiers. 

I  only  took  time  to  wash  my  face  in  the  meagre  supply 
of  water  the  prison  regulations  give  me  both  for  drinking 
and  toilet  purposes,  and  to  try  and  make  my  disordered 
garments  a  little  more  presentable ;  for  I  was  still  wearing 
those  I  had  on  at  the  time  of  my  arrest,  and  the  dampness 
of  my  cell  and  continual  contact  with  my  chains  had  not 
improved  them.  As  I  was  carefully  picking  off  some 
straws  that  clung  to  my  caftan,  a  young  soldier  with  a 
pleasant  face  and  blue  eyes,  seeing  that  such  untidiness 
was  annoying  to  me,  pulled  a  whisk-broom  out  of  his 
haversack,  and  brushed  me  vigorously  from  head  to  foot. 
This  kindly  act  moved  me  almost  to  tears.  When  one  has 
been  cut  off  from  alt  intercourse  with  his  fellows  for  a  long 
time,  a  mere  trifle  makes  a  deep  impression  upon  one. 
I  felt  my  lips  quiver  as  I  thanked  him.  His  compan- 
ions said  nothing,  but  no  one  opposed  his  charitable 
deed. 

The  bright  sunlight  almost  blinded  me  as  I  approached 
the  courtyard.  Just  as  I  set  foot  in  it,  a  long  wild  howl 
made  me  start ;  and  an  animal  that  several  guards  had  been 
vainly  endeavoring  to  restrain  burst  from  them,  and  came 
bounding  toward  me.  It  was  Snap,  my  poor,  faithful 
dog !  And  what  a  sorry  condition  he  was  in !  so  emaci- 
ated that  his  bones  nearly  protruded  through  his  skin,  and 
his  once  bright  eyes  were  sadly  dim !  He  licked  my 
hands  frantically ;  then,  standing  on  his  hind  legs,  he  placed 
his  forepaws  upon  my  breast.  Oh,  how  delighted  he 
was  to  see  me  !  My  eyes  grew  moist ;  my  heart  throbbed 
wildly ;  and  leaning  forward,  I  imprinted  a  loving  kiss  upon 
the  forehead  of  this  faithflhl  friend. 


266  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

The  soldiers  seemed  deeply  touched. 

"  He  has  n't  moved  from  here  since  you  were  put  in 
prison,"  remarked  one  of  the  guards.  "  We  Ve  done 
everything  we  could  to  drive  him  away,  but  he  always 
came  straight  back.  If  some  of  us  had  n't  taken  pity  on 
you,  and  thrown  you  a  few  bones  now  and  then,  you  would 
have  been  dead  long  ago,  eh,  old  fellow?"  he  added 
compassionately. 

A  covered  wagon  was  waiting  at  the  door.  I  stepped 
into  it,  accompanied  by  a  corporal  and  two  soldiers.  Snap 
sprang  in  after  me,  and  crouched  at  my  feet. 

"  Let  him  alone !  The  poor  beast  won't  do  any  harm," 
said  the  corporal,  stroking  his  big  gray  mustache. 

We  soon  reached  the  court  house,  and  alighted  before 
its  massive  portals.  My  dog  was  evidently  determined  to 
follow  me  in;  and  fearing  he  would  be  ill-treated  if  he  per- 
^sisted,  I  took  off  my  cloak  and  laid  it  on  the  ground. 
"  Here,  Snap,  take  care  of  it,"  I  said  to  him  in  a  tone  of 
command  ;  and  he  immediately  stretched  himself  out  beside 
it,  and  placed  his  right  paw  upon  it.  He  would  die  rather 
than  desert  his  post. 

I  was  taken  to  the  court-room,  and  conducted  to  the 
bench  reserved  for  me. 

The  immense  hall  was  crowded  to  suffocation ;  people 
were  even  sitting  in  the  window-sills.  A  loud  murmur  was 
distinctly  audible  when  I  appeared ;  but  there  was  a  mist 
before  my  eyes,  and  at  first  I  could  not  distinguish  a 
single  countenance  in  the  sea  of  human  faces.  I  sank  into 
my  seat  almost  fainting ;  but  a  fear  of  appearing  cowardly 
revived  me,  and  with  a  violent  effort  I  straightened  myself 
up  and  glanced  around  me. 

I  see  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  in  the  court-room.     He  is 


"IT  WAS  SNAP,  MY  POOR,  FAITHFUL  DOG  ! " 


THE  TRIAL.  269 

standing  near  the  witness-stand,  wrapped  in  his  big  black 
cloak.  He  waves  his  hand  to  me,  and  calls  out,  "  Courage, 
my  dear  boy,  courage !  " 

Near  him  stand  Serge,  Porphyre,  and  Grichine.  Platon 
Gregorov,  too,  is  here  with  a  party  of  ladies.  I  see,  too, 
several  of  our  professors,  our  superintendent,  with  a  look 
of  profound  sadness  on  his  face,  and  M.  Sarevine,  sterner 
and  more  grim  than  ever ;  but  I  see  all  these  familiar  faces 
as  if  in  a  dream,  and  am  by  no  means  sure  that  all  this  is 
real,  —  that  I  am,  indeed,  a  prisoner,  and  that  all  these 
persons  are  assembled  here  to  see  me  tried. 

The  rasping-  voice  of  the  bailiff  rises,  commanding 
silence  in  the  court. 

The  judges  are  in  their  seats.  The  presiding  judge  is  a 
venerable  man  of  imposing  appearance,  with  a  long  gray 
beard  reaching  nearly  to  his  waist.  On  his  breast  glitters 
the  Cross  of  Saint  Ann.  He  casts  a  glance  over  the 
assemblage,  and  then  gives  orders  for  the  proceedings  to 
begin.  After  a  long  discussion  a  dozen  jurors  are  chosen ; 
a  thirteenth  is  added  in  case  one  of  the  others  should 
fall  ill. 

Then  the  priest,  who  has  been  standing  to  the  left  of 
the  presiding  judge,  and  just  behind  his  chair,  assumes  his 
green  stole,  embroidered  with  gold,  and  administers  the 
oath  to  the  thirteen  jurors,  who  immediately  take  their 
places  in  the  jury-box. 

The  counsel  for  the  prosecution  rises.  He  is  a  very 
stern-looking  man ;  and  the  glance  he  bestows  on  me  when 
he  speaks  seems  to  indicate  that  the  mere  sight  of  me  fills 
him  with  horror  and  loathing.  I  feel  the  hot  blood  mount 
to  the  very  roots  of  my  hair  under  his  withering  gaze ;  but 
I  keep  my  eyes  fixed  full  on  his  face  until  the  conclusion  of 


2/0  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

his  remarks.  He  relates  all  the  facts  connected  with  the 
affair ;  he  lays  great  stress  upon  the  death-warrant,  written 
in  my  hand ;  he  declares  that  there  cannot  be  the  slightest 
doubt  that  I  am  the  culprit,  and  demands  that  the  severest 
penalty  of  the  law  should  be  inflicted  upon  me. 

The  evident  animosity  of  this  stranger  enrages  me.  I 
long  to  reply  to  him  in  scathing  terms,  and  vehemently  to 
assert  my  innocence ;  but  that  is  impossible. 

"  Rise,  prisoner,"  said  the  presiding  judge,  solemnly, 
"  and  swear  on  the  Holy  Book  to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth."  The  priest  advances 
toward  me,  holding  up  the  Bible  and  the  Crucifix ;  I  take 
the  prescribed  oath  in  a  firm  voice,  and  reverently  kiss  the 
sacred  image. 

"  What  answer  have  you  to  make  to  this  accusation?  " 

"  The  same  answer  I  made  before.  I  solemnly  declare 
upon  my  word  of  honor,  that  I  did  not  see  Gavruchka 
after  eight  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  i/jth  of  February. 
I  swear  it  by  this  sacred  emblem,  and  by  the  revered 
memory  of  my  father.  I  have  told  the  exact  truth.  I 
know  nothing  about  this  affair  except  what  I  heard  on 
the  morning  of  my  arrest.  I  myself  wrote  nothing  but  a 
few  lines  of  music  on  the  sheet  of  paper  the  superintendent 
showed  me.  I  never  touched  a  hair  of  the  janitor's  head, 
I  swear  it !  I  tell  you  so,  once  for  all,  but  I  will  not  allow 
any  one  to  doubt  my  word.  If  you  refuse  to  believe  me, 
I  shall  say  no  more.  I  have  no  proofs  to  give  you. 
Either  believe  me,  or  cease  to  question  me;  for  by  the 
Holy  Virgin  of  Kasan,  I  swear  I  will  answer  no  further 
questions." 

There  was  quite  a  commotion  in  the  court-room. 
"Prisoner,"  said  the  presiding  judge,  severely,  "you  are 


THE    TRIAL. 

injuring  yourself  by  your  vehemence.  It  is  your  duty  to 
answer  all  questions  put  to  you,  and  to  give  us  all  the 
assistance  possible,  in  order  that  justice  may  be  done." 

"  I  desire  that  much  more  ardently  than  any  person 
present.  If  I  had  committed  the  crime  with  which  I  am 
charged,  I  should  be  the  first  to  admit  my  guilt." 

The  judge  frowned.  "  Summon  the  witnesses,"  he  said 
curtly. 

The  first  person  to  testify  is  Apollon  Samitine,  the 
policeman.  He  is  a  very  tall  man,  and  looks  as  stiff  as  a 
ramrod  in  his  uniform.  His  honest  face,  which  is  as  ruddy 
in  hue  as  the  collar  of  his  tunic,  does  not  indicate  much 
intelligence,  and  he  answers  the  questions  put  to  him  like 
an  automaton.  I  can  see  that  when  Apollon  Samitine 
once  gets  an  idea  into  his  head,  it  is  not  easy  to  dislodge 
it.  He  repeats  the  statements  previously  made.  He  saw 
me  enter  the  Gymnasium  about  eight  o'clock;  at  midnight 
he  saw  me  emerge  from  it,  wrapped  in  a  big  cloak,  and 
with  the  lower  part  of  my  face  covered  with  a  dark  muffler. 

By  the  judge's  orders  I  am  arrayed  in  this  manner,  and 
the  white  cap  worn  by  all  the  First  Class  boys  is  placed 
on  my  head.  Apollon  identifies  me.  He  is  positive,  now, 
that  I  am  the  person  he  saw  leaving  the  Gymnasium  about 
midnight. 

"  Prisoner,  what  have  you  to  say  in  answer  to  these 
statements?  " 

"  I  was  not  at  the  Gymnasium.  I  spent  the  evening  at  a 
concert,  so  I  am  not  the  person  he  saw  leaving  the 
building." 

"  Who  were  the  two  young  men  that  were  with  you 
when  you  left  the  Gymnasium  at  midnight?  "  asked  the 
prosecuting  attorney  abruptly,  after  a  short  silence. 


2 72  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  felt  an  angry  flush  overspread  my  face,  and  was  about 
to  make  a  wrathful  reply;  but  suddenly  checked  myself, 
and  leaning  back  in  my  seat,  I  folded  my  arms  upon  my 
breast. 

"Did  you  hear  my  question,  prisoner?  Who  were 
those  persons?  " 

And  as  I  still  remained  silent, — 

"Was  he  not  one  of  them?"  he  persisted,  in  a  voice 
of  thunder,  pointing  to  Porphyre. 

This  was  too  much. 

"  Porphyre  Agathonovitch  was  not  with  me  at  the 
concert,"  I  answered  scornfully.  "  Ask  him  where  he 
spent  his  evening,  if  you  want  to  know.  He  is  no  more 
of  a  liar  than  I  am.  He  will  tell  you  without  any 
circumlocution." 

"  Everyone  knows  perfectly  well  already,"  cried  Porphyre, 
in  spite  of  the  officers'  endeavors  to  silence  him.  "  I  was 
kept  in  prison  two  days,  but  old  Ivan  had  no  difficulty  in 
proving  that  I  was  asleep  by  his  stove  from  eight  o'clock 
until  one  that  night,  and  —  " 

They  silenced  him  at  last  by  dragging  him  toward  the 
door;  but  from  my  seat  I  could  not  see  whether  they 
succeeded  in  pulling  him  out  of  the  room  or  not.  \ 

"  You  had  accomplices,"  said  the  presiding  judge. 
"Name  them." 

"  I  could  n't  have  had  accomplices  in  a  crime  I  never 
committed."  Then,  being  thoroughly  exasperated,  I 
rashly  add,  — 

"  Besides,  even  if  I  had,  I  wouldn't  be  base  enough  to 
betray  them." 

The  judge  gave  me  a  stern  glance. 

"  Take  care,  young  man,"  he  said,  with  an  arrogance  that 


THE   TRIAL.  2/3 

made  my  blood  boil  in  my  veins;  such  insolence  does 
not  become  a  prisoner,  especially  when  a  lad  of  your  age  is 
addressing  a  man  of  my  years.  Bring  in  the  next  witness." 

I  nurse  my  wrath  in  silence  while  the  next  witness  — 
the  doorkeeper  at  the  Porte-Doree  —  gives  her  testimony. 
She  is  a  nervous,  timid  woman  of  an  uncertain  age,  and 
is  evidently  greatly  awed  by  her  surroundings.  She  be- 
gins by  stoutly  declaring  that  she  always  sees  every  person 
who  enters  the  hall,  and  that  she  never  fails  to  notice  each 
individual's  face  and  clothing;  still,  she  might  fail  to  see 
a  person  if  the  night  was  dark,  and  the  person  who  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  window  was  very  tall  and  kept  his 
face  in  the  shadow.  This  was  not  the  case  with  this  young 
man,  for  she  had  often  noticed  him  and  knew  him  very  well 
by  sight.  He  often  attended  the  concerts,  and  she  knew 
him, —  well,  in  the  first  place,  because  —  because  he  was  not 
a  person  to  pass  unnoticed  (great  hilarity"),  and  because  he 
only  paid  one  fourth  of  the  usual  price  of  admission  on 
account  of  his  student's  cap ;  but  on  the  evening  referred 
to,  she  was  sure  that  no  one  purchased  a  fourth-rate  ticket. 
If  she  had  seen  me,  she  would  certainly  have  remembered 
it,  and  as  she  did  not  see  me,.  I  certainly  was  not  there. 
Questioned  more  closely,  she  branched  out  into  all  sorts 
of  topics  foreign  to  the  subject  under  discussion;  she 
weeps  and  maunders;  but  her  testimony  evidently  confirms 
the  belief  that  I  did  not  attend  the  concert  that  evening. 

"  Did  you  purchase  a  fourth-rate  ticket  at  this  concert?  " 
inquires  the  presiding  judge,  a  little  ironically. 

"No,  sir;  I  know  that  what  I  am  going  to  say  will 
sound  highly  improbable:  but  some  strange  freak  of 
fancy  caused  me  to  wear  a  fur  cap  instead  of  my  school 
cap  that  evening,  so  I  paid  the  full  price  of  admission." 

18 


2/4  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  can  see  that  this  answer  injures  me  very  considerably 
in  public  estimation.  The  attorney  for  the  prosecution 
smiles  meaningly,  and  the  doorkeeper  is  dismissed  from 
the  witness  stand,  where  she  seems  likely  to  prose  on 
forever. 

Maestro  Nepomuk  is  the  next  witness  examined.  He 
speaks  of  me  in  the  highest  terms ;  and  though  I  am  far 
from  worthy  of  such  a  tribute  of  esteem,  it  touches  me 
deeply,  and  I  am  obliged  to  bow  my  head  to  conceal  my 
emotion.  He  did  not  see  me  on  the  evening  referred  to. 
No  one  saw  me.  I  seem  to  have  been  as  invisible  to  mortal 
sight  as  if  I  had  worn  the  magic  ring  of  the  fable.  True, 
I  spoke  to  the  janitor  of  the  next  house  on  returning  home, 
but  it  was  after  midnight,  so  that  proves  nothing. 

My  teachers  now  testify.  They  say  I  am  studious  and 
good-tempered  ;  that  I  am  universally  regarded  as  a  peace- 
ably-disposed, honest  lad,  and  the  only  fault  they  have 
had  to  find  with  me  is  that  I  am  rather  absent-minded, 
and  too  prone  to  indulge  in  day  dreams ;  that  they  have 
never  seen  me  violently  angry,  and  that  I  am  too  proud  to 
lie.  My  reputation  at  the  Gymnasium  is  excellent.  True, 
I  have  often  been  known  to  ridicule  the  janitor,  and  have 
slight  altercations  with  him;  but  this  has  also  been  the 
case  with  most  of  the  pupils  of  the  Gymnasium.  My  pro- 
fessors, however,  without  exception,  identify  the  hand- 
writing on  the  sheet  of  music-paper  as  mine. 

Several  of  my  fellow-students  are  now  brought  forward. 
Serge  testifies  with  a  friendly  warmth  of  manner  that 
moves  me  deeply.  He  is  as  sure  of  me  as  he  is  of  him- 
self, and  he  would  have  to  see  me  pen  that  death-warrant  • 
with  his  own  eyes  to  be  convinced  of  my  guilt,  since  I 
deny  it.  My  simple  word  has  more  weight  with  him  than 


THE  TRIAL.  275 

the  strongest  oath.  He  respects  and  honors  me  as  deeply 
as  he  loves  me,  and  he  will  always  believe  in  my  inno- 
cence. When  he  is  cross-examined,  he  replies  that  the 
handwriting  strongly  resembles  mine,  but  as  I  declare  that 
it  is  not  mine,  he  is  sure  that  it  is  only  an  imitation. 

The  superintendent  and  assistant  superintendent  testify- 
in  their  turn.  When  they  were  hastily  summoned  at  dawn 
by  one  of  the  char-boys,  they  found  the  janitor  in  his  little 
room,  bent  almost  double,  and  to  all  appearance  dead. 
The  assistant  superintendent  instantly  recognized  my 
handwriting  on  the  crumpled  paper  that  was  lying  on 
the  floor  near  the  unfortunate  man ;  and  he  could  hardly 
doubt  that  I  was  the  perpetrator  of  this  most  reprehen- 
sible practical  joke,  and  the  testimony  of  the  policeman 
had  only  strengthened  this  unpleasant  conviction.  In  all 
other  respects  they  both  did  me  ample  justice,  and  de- 
clared that  I  had  always  been  a  remarkably  frank  and 
honest  boy.  Kind-hearted  M.  Perevsky  even  added,  with 
great  feeling,  that  he  would  not  have  supposed  me  capable 
of  a  cruel  or  even  culpable  act.  Then  addressing  himself 
to  me,  he  implored  me  to  tell  the  truth,  and  no  longer  per- 
sist in  the  unfortunate  course  impulsively  adopted  in  the 
moment  of  terror  that  immediately  followed  discovery. 

I  cannot  feel  offended  with  him.  I  only  shake  my  head 
sadly. 

"I  did  not  do  it,  Ivan  Alexandrovitch,  I  swear  I  did 
not !  "  I  exclaim  in  a  voice  that  trembles,  in  spite  of  all 
my  efforts ;  for  his  evident  grief  pains  me. 

The  Gymnasium  physician  gives  his  testimony.  He  was 
summoned  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  comatose 
condition  in  which  he  found  the  janitor  indicated  that  the 
cerebral  congestion  with  which  he  was  suffering  had  at- 


2/6  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

tacked  him  eight  or  ten  hours  before,  or  between  nine  and 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening;  Gavruchka's  limbs  were 
rigid,  his  face  much  swollen,  and  his  respiration  and  pulse 
scarcely  perceptible.  There  were  no  signs  of  violence. 
The  attack  of  apoplexy  had  been  brought  on,  perhaps  by 
a  paroxysm  of  rage  rather  than  terror,  caused  by  the 
brutal  threat  against  him ;  in  fact,  the  irascible  disposition 
of  the  victim  and  his  intemperate  habits  rendered  this 
supposition  extremely  probable.  The  untiring  medical 
attention  bestowed  upon  him  had  averted  any  immediate 
danger :  but  his  prostration  was  still  very  great ;  his  eyes 
remained  glassy,  his  sight  and  hearing  were  much  im- 
paired, if  not  entirely  destroyed ;  and  his  attempts  to  speak 
were  limited  to  a  few  incoherent  words. 

"  If  he  ever  rallies,  which  is  by  no  means  certain,"  says 
the  doctor,  in  conclusion,  "  there  is  good  reason  to  fear 
that  his  recovery  will  be  but  partial." 

Experts  then  examine  the  death-warrant,  as  well  as  my 
note-books,  and  disagree  in  the  most  lively  manner.  Some 
declare  that  the  handwriting  is  the  same ;  others  cannot 
detect  the  slightest  resemblance.  They  quarrel  and  con- 
tradict each  other;  their  voices  rise  higher  and  higher. 
They  seem  to  be  on  the  point  of  tearing  each  other's 
eyes  out,  when  the  presiding  magistrate  curtly  dismisses 
them. 

Capiton  Karlovitch  Strodtmann  is  summoned ;  but  he 
fails  to  respond,  and  an  officer  of  the  court  is  sent  out  in 
search  of  him. 

But  the  short  winter's  day  is  fast  drawing  to  a  close. 
The  court  adjourns ;  the  crowd  rush  out,  and  I  am  taken 
back  to  my  cell. 

My  dog  was  still  guarding  my  cloak,  and  when  I  reached 


THE   TRIAL.  277 

the  prison,  I  again  intrusted  the  garment  to  his  care,  in 
order  to  quiet  his  troubled  heart.  It  will  be  cold  to- 
night without  my  cloak,  but  my  faithful  friend  has  suf- 
fered long  for  me ;  I  can  certainly  shiver  a  little  for  his 
sake. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

EXTRACT  FROM   THE   MOSCOW   CHRONICLE. 

WE  resume  this  morning  our  report  of  the  exciting 
trial  now  going  on  in  our  city.  At  an  early  hour 
the  court  house  was  besieged  by  an  immense  throng  of 
our  townspeople,  all  resolved  to  secure  a  place  in  the 
court-room,  or  suffocate  in  the  attempt. 

The  character  of  the  assemblage  was  much  the  same  as 
that  of  yesterday,  —  a  great  many  ladies,  and  a  large 
number  of  students  from  the  University,  as  well  as  from 
the  various  colleges  and  gymnasia,  being  present. 

At  eight  o'clock  precisely  the  judges  took  their  seats, 
and  the  prisoner  was  brought  in  immediately  afterwards. 

We  mentioned  in  our  issue  of  yesterday  the  very  favorable 
impression  made  upon  those  present  by  young  Terentieff. 
His  youth,  the  clearness  and  frankness  of  his  blue  eyes,  his 
tall  and  admirably  developed  form,  and  above  all,  the  ex- 
pression of  honesty  and  integrity  imprinted  upon  his  feat- 
ures, instantly  enlisted  the  sympathies  of  the  public  in  his 
behalf,  as  was  the  case  yesterday. 

"  Poor  young  man  !  I  hope  he  will  be  acquitted  !  "  — 
"  Most  assuredly  that  lad  never  told  a  falsehood  or  injured 
any  one  in  his  life."  —  "  Don't  you  think  he  resembles 
Prince  D ?"  —  "Oh,  no,  my  dear,  he  looks  more  like 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOSCOW  CHRONICLE.          279 

Count  W .  Don't  you  see  he  has  the  same  broad 

forehead  and  straight  nose."  —  "  I  think  a  fellow  with  a  form 
like  that  ought  to  be  acquitted  at  once.  It 's  a  positive 
pleasure  to  see  a  sturdy  young  giant  like  that  after  the 
puny  dwarfs  modern  education  gives  us." 

These  remarks  and  many  of  a  like  nature  were  ex- 
changed in  the  court-room.  Terentieff's  friends  crowded 
around  the  dock  to  shake  hands  with  him ;  and  everybody 
was  talking  about  the  wonderful  fidelity  displayed  by  the 
prisoner's  dog,  who  has  remained  at  the  gate  of  the  prison 
ever  since  his  master  entered  it. 

Capiton  Karlovitch  Strodtmann,  the  principal  witness 
for  the  prosecution,  was  summoned.  Several  minutes 
passed,  but  he  failed  to  appear.  A  messenger  dispatched 
to  his  father's  residence  returned  with  the  announcement 
that  he  was  not  at  home,  but  was  supposed  to  be  some- 
where in  the  court-room. 

He  could  not  be  found,  however;  so  the  attorney  for  the 
prosecution  arose,  and  in  his  usual  spirited  and  masterly 
style  proceeded  to  sum  up  the  testimony  against  the 
prisoner. 

He  spoke  first  of  Terentieff's  antecedents.  He  alluded 
to  the  difficulty  the  prisoner  had  had  with  the  unfortunate 
janitor,  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Moscow,  —  an  arrival,  too, 
which  was  attended  with  many  circumstances  of  a  sus- 
picious nature.  The  accused  had  been  of  an  unusually  re- 
served and  taciturn  disposition  from  childhood.  He  had 
very  few  friends.  He  had  none  of  the  frank  gayety  natural 
to  lads  of  his  age ;  in  regard  to  all  matters  connected  with 
himself  he  had  always  been  strangely  reticent.  His  light 
had  often  been  seen  burning  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night. 
How  was  he  employed?  Was  he  so  very  far  advanced  in 


280  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

his  studies?  No,  he  was  a  young  man  of  fair  ability,  but 
not  a  particularly  ambitious  student,  if  the  statements  of  his 
teachers  could  be  relied  upon.  His  physical  strength  was 
remarkable.  Seeing  him,  it  was  very  easy  for  any  one  to 
understand  how  he  had  succeeded  in  overpowering  an  in- 
offensive old  man.  The  mere  sight  of  such  an  adversary 
was  enough  to  strike  terror  to  the  heart  of  his  aged  and 
infirm  victim,  enfeebled  both  in  mind  and  body  by  the 
severe  wounds  he  had  received  while  defending  his  country. 
Besides,  the  prisoner  had  taken  good  care  to  apprise  the 
unfortunate  man  of  his  impending  doom ;  and  this  threat, 
written  by  the  prisoner's  own  hand,  now  formed' one  of  the 
most  conclusive  proofs  of  his  guilt.  (The  sentence  of  death 
was  here  circulated  among  the  jurors,  together  with  other 
specimens  of  the  prisoner1  s  handwriting,  and  the  jurors  were 
seen  to  shake  their  heads  ominously.  Intense  excitement 
prevailed  in  the  hall.}  This  unfortunate  youth,  a  prey  to 
the  most  dangerous  and  perverse  instincts,  should,  in  the 
interests  of  society,  be  separated  from  the  upright  and 
honorable  young  men  to  whom  his  very  presence  is  an  in- 
sult. Perhaps  in  the  gloomy  depths  of  a  Siberian  mine  a 
spirit  of  repentance  may  be  awakened  in  his  soul,  and 
purify  his  now  corrupt  heart. 

The  speaker  concluded  by  asking  that  the  severest 
penalty  of  the  law  be  imposed  upon  the  prisoner. 

The  presiding  judge  then  asked  the  accused  if  he  had 
anything  to  say  in  his  defence,  and  even  urged  the  prisoner 
to  confess  his  guilt,  so  that  an  appeal  to  the  mercy  of  the 
jurors  would  be  possible. 

But  Terentieff  shook  his  head  energetically. 

"  I  am  not  guilty,"  he  exclaimed  passionately,  "  You 
might  as  well  send  the  prosecuting  attorney  to  Siberia  as 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOSCOW  CHRONICLE.          281 

me ;  I  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  crime  of  which  I 
am  accused  than  he  had." 

He  was  advised  to  be  silent.  It  was  evident  that  his 
violent  manner  was  making  an  unfortunate  impression 
upon  the  jury. 

"  Once  more  I  will  ask  if  Witness  Capiton  Karlovitch 
Strodtmann  is  present?"  said  the  judge.  Then  after  a 
long  silence,  he  added :  "  The  counsel  for  the  defence 
will  now  be  heard."  But  just  as  that  gentleman  arose  to 
speak,  there  was  quite  a  commotion  in  the  dense  throng, 
caused  by  some  officers  of  the  court,  who  were  evidently 
trying  to  open  a  way  through  the  crowd  for  another  witness, 
who  wished  to  testify. 

The  new-comer  proved  to  be  a  beautiful  young  girl  with 
a  delicate  face  framed  with  rich  masses  of  brown  hair,  a 
superb  complexion,  and  large  dark  eyes  that  shone  like 
stars. 

On  seeing  her,  the  prisoner  hastily  sprang  to  his  feet, 
uttering  a  smothered  exclamation.  He  was  compelled  to 
reseat  himself;  but  every  one  could  see  that  he  was  greatly 
agitated. 

"Your  name,  my  child?"  asked  the  presiding  judge 
gently,  for  the  sudden  and  unexpected  appearance  of  this 
vision  of  youthful  loveliness  was  evidently  as  great  a  sur- 
prise to  him  as  to  the  rest  of  the  assemblage. 

"  Alexandra  Fedorovna,  adopted  daughter  of  the  late  Fe- 
dor  Illitch  Terentieff,  father  of  the  prisoner,"  responded 
the  new  witness,  in  a  clear  and  musical  voice. 

"  Alexandra  Fedorovna,  swear  to  tell  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth."  The  witness  took 
the  required  oath  in  a  modest  and  reverent  manner. 

"  Now  what  have  you  to  say,  Alexandra  Fedorovna?  " 


282  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  I  attended  the  concert  at  the  Porte  Doree  on  the  evening 
of  the  1 4th  of  February.  \_Great  excitement  in  ttie  court- 
room.^ I  arrived  there  at  eight  o'clock,  in  company  with  my 
old  friend,  Prince  Arcadion  Semonovitch  Bekounine,  who 
is  ready  to  confirm  my  statements.  About  quarter  past 
eight,  while  sitting  beside  that  gentleman  in  Box  No.  10, 
in  the  first  tier,  I  happened  to  glance  up  at  the  gallery, 
and  at  that  very  moment  I  saw  Dmitri  Fedorovitch,  my 
adopted  brother,  enter.  Though  I  had  not  seen  him  for 
two  years,  —  which  I  spent  in  Southern  Europe,  —  I  rec- 
ognized him  instantly,  but  took  up  my  opera-glass  to 
satisfy  myself  beyond  a  doubt  that  it  was  really  he.  I 
called  Arcadion  S^monovitch's  attention  to  my  brother's 
presence,  and  he,  too,  recognized  him.  On  entering, 
Dmitri  Fedorovitch  took  a  seat  in  the  first  row,  removed 
his  hat,  rested  his  elbow  on  the  balustrade  and  his  chin 
upon  his  hand.  He  sat  where  the  light  of  the  chandelier 
fell  full  upon  him,  and  he  did  not  leave  his  place  until  the 
close  of  the  concert.  One  might  have  taken  him  for  a 
statue ;  and  if  I  had  not  known  his  passion  for  music,  his 
immobility  would  have  alarmed  me.  Even  during  the 
intermission,  when  everybody  else  was  talking  and  moving 
about,  he  remained  motionless  in  his  seat.  Prince 
Bekounine  and  I  both  laughed  about  it,  and  finally  we 
made  a  wager,  he,  that  Dmitri  would  move ;  I,  that  he 
would  not.  I  won.  The  concert  ended  at  midnight,  and 
my  brother  immediately  rose  and  left  the  hall.  I  hoped 
to  see  him  at  the  door  as  we  went  out;  but  did  not,  nor 
have  I  had  any  opportunity  to  see  him  since,  for  my  god- 
father, as  I  call  Prince  Bekounine,  was  taken  very  ill  the 
next  day,  and  my  whole  time  and  attention  have  beer 
devoted  to  nursing  him.  It  was  through  yesterda,  o 


SACHA  IN  THE   COURT-ROOM. 


EXTRACT  FROM   THE  MOSCOW  CHRONICLE.  285 

papers  that  we  first  heard  of  my  beloved  brother's  trying 
position.  Of  course  I  came  here  as  soon  as  possible  to 
tell  you  the  whole  truth." 

The  fair  speaker  paused,  overcome  with  emotion,  and 
her  melodious  voice  had  scarcely  ceased,  when  a  storm 
of  applause  burst  from  the  audience;  loud  shouts  of 
"  Three  Cheers  for  Terentieff !  Hurrah!  he  is  innocent!  he 
is  innocent !  "  resounded  on  every  side.  In  vain  the  officers 
of  the  court,  and  even  the  judges,  endeavored  to  restore 
order.  It  was  one  of  those  outbursts  of  enthusiasm  that 
cannot  be  repressed,  and  tears  streamed  from  many  eyes. 
Every  one  seemed  to  experience  a  feeling  of  intense  relief 
at  the  discovery  of  the  prisoner's  innocence.  Every  one 
applauded  wildly ;  and  the  accused,  who  had  borne  himself 
so  courageously  up  to  that  time,  seemed  completely  over- 
come, and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

In  the  midst  of  the  general  uproar,  a  messenger  ap- 
proached the  presiding  judge  and  handed  him  a  sealed 
letter.  The  justice  hastily  tore  it  open,  and  glanced  at  the 
contents,  then  quickly  rose  from  his  seat.  The  confusion 
subsided,  as  if  by  magic ;  one  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop, 
so  intense  was  the  stillness.  In  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  emotion,  the  judge,  turning  to  the  prisoner,  said,  — 

"  Look  up,  Dmitri  Fedorovitch ;  assuredly  you  have  no 
cause  to  bow  your  head.  Even  if  your  sister's  testimony 
had  not  exonerated  you,  we  should  not  have  failed  to 
discover  the  truth.  Listen,  all  you  who  are  here  pre- 
sent, and  unite  with  me  in  testifying  our  respect  and 
sympathy  for  this  noble  young  man,  who  has  suffered  so 
undeservedly." 

Then  he  read  in  a  clear,  ringing  voice  the  following 
letter :  — 


286  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

To  DMITRI  TERENTIEFF'S  JUDGES  : 

When  this  letter  is  handed  to  you,  I  shall  be  far  away.  I  can 
endure  my  remorse  no  longer.  Dmitri  F^dorovitch  is  not  guilty 
of  the  assault  imputed  to  him ;  it  was  I,  Capiton  Karlovitch 
Strodtmann,  who  planned  and  executed  the  entire  affair. 

It  is  useless  to  dwell  upon  the  circumstances  that  first  excited 
my  animosity  against  my  fellow  student.  It  is  enough  for  me  to 
confess  that  I  hated  him  even  before  I  knew  him,  and  for  the 
basest  of  reasons,  —  that  is,  because  I  believed  I  had  been  deprived 
through  him  of  an  inheritance  upon  which  I  had  counted  from 
childhood. 

How  this  feeling  of  avarice  could  have  gained  such  a  hold  upon 
me  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  detested  Dmitri  from  the  moment  of 
our  first  meeting,  and  made  no  secret  of  the  fact,  as  my  class- 
mates will  testify. 

Dmitri  himself  asked  me  the  reason  of  my  evident  dislike 
early  in  our  acquaintance  ;  but  I  gave  him  no  satisfaction.  Every 
day  I  allowed  my  vindictive  feelings  to  gain  a  stronger  and 
stronger  hold  upon  me  ;  I  racked  my  brain  to  devise  new  means 
of  annoying  and  wounding  him.  His  self-control  exasperated 
me ;  I  longed  to  see  him  humiliated ;  and  though  it  delighted 
me  to  know  that  he  was  poor,  it  irritated  me  almost  beyond 
endurance  to  see  that  he  was  liked  and  respected  by  his  fellow 
students. 

I  blush  to  think  of  the  depths  to  which  I  allowed  my  hatred 
and  jealousy  to  degrade  me.  Ask  Terentieff  what  occurred  on 
the  ice  on  the  occasion  of  Count  Brovsky's  fete  ?  If  he  despises 
me  as  I  deserve,  he  will  tell  you.  Shortly  after  that  eventful 
day,  I  made  some  slight  advances  to  Dmitri.  I  hoped  he  was 
ignorant  of  my  baseness ;  but  he  repulsed  me.  I  certainly  de- 
served it;  and  yet  this  repulse  decided  me.  I  have  no  right 
to  reproach  him ;  but  if  he  had  been  more  kind,  I  might  have 
confessed  my  fault  and  striven  to  make  amends.  Instead  of 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOSCOW  CHRONICLE.          287 

that,  from  that  time  on,  hypocrisy  was  added  to  my  other 
crimes. 

Though  I  hated  him  with  a  deadly  hatred,  I  praised  him  upon 
all  occasions;  and  if  I  detected  surprise  or  contempt  in  his 
look  at  such  times,  I  only  became  more  enthusiastic  in  my 
eulogiums.  I  suspected  him  of  having  betrayed  me  to  his  most 
intimate  friend,  Serge  Arcadievitch  Kratkine,  and  though  I  have 
since  learned  that  I  was  mistaken,  the  thought  appalled  me. 

Dmitri  and  Serge  were  both  universally  esteemed  in  tne 
college,  so  I  hated  them  both  almost  equally.  It  is  hard  to 
confess  one's  self  governed  by  such  base  sentiments ;  but  it  is 
the  only  reparation  I  can  make,  and  I  will  not  allow  cowardice 
to  deter  me  now. 

There  had  been  a  feud  between  me  and  the  janitor  for  a  long 
time.  I  had  been  one  of  his  worst  tormentors  ever  since  I  en- 
tered Saint- Vladimir ;  I  knew  the  superstitious  terrors  of  which 
the  unfortunate  man  was  the  victim,  —  terrors  caused,  to  a  great 
extent,  by  his  indulgence  in  spirituous  liquors ;  and  after  a 
quarrel  of  which  Terentieff,  to  my  great  annoyance,  chanced  to 
be  a  witness,  I  resolved  to  have  my  revenge  upon  Gavruchka 
by  means  of  a  practical  joke  that  would  frighten  him  nearly  out 
of  his  senses. 

Alas  !  I  little  suspected  how  disastrous  the  consequences  of 
this  joke  would  prove  ! 

I  resolved  to  carry  my  scheme  into  execution  that  very  even- 
ing. Chance,  or  rather  a  most  dishonorable  act  on  my  part,  put 
me  in  possession  of  one  of  Dmitri's  papers,  and  the  idea  of 
casting  the  odium  of  the  affair  upon  him  in  case  it  was  discov- 
ered suddenly  occurred  to  me.  I  took  the  paper  home,  and 
after  spending  an  hour  or  two  in  imitating  his  writing,  I  wrote 
the  pretended  death-warrant  on  the  other  side  of  the  paper. 

About  half  past  ten  o'clock,  I  crept  stealthily  out  of  my 
father's  house,  and  accompanied  by  two  youths  I  happened  to 
see  loafing  about  the  street,  ready  for  any  kind  of  deviltry,  I 


288  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS   IN  RUSSIA. 

went  to  the  college  and  rang  the  janitor's  bell.  I  had  enveloped 
myself  in  a  large  cloak,  and  tied  a  big  comforter  about  the  lower 
part  of  my  face. 

Suddenly  aroused  from  his  first  nap,  Gavruchka  was  still  half 
asleep  when  he  opened  the  door.  Without  a  word,  I  turned  the 
light  of  my  lantern  full  upon  him ;  then  saying,  "  In  the  name 
of  the  law !  "  in  sepulchral  tones,  I  stalked  into  the  janitor's 
room,  followed  by  my  accomplices. 

The  old  man  was  now  thoroughly  frightened,  and  his  terror 
increased  when  I  proceeded  to  lock  the  door.  I  then  told  him 
that  the  students  of  Saint- Vladimir,  tired  of  his  tyranny,  had 
resolved  upon  his  death ;  I  next  read  the  death-warrant,  and 
while  he  was  listening  to  it,  trembling  and  half  crazed  with  fear, 
I  made  a  signal  to  my  assistants. 

They  seized  the  old  man  by  the  elbows,  and  compelled  him 
to  kneel  in  front  of  the  table.  One  of  them  then  blindfolded 
him.  He  remained  perfectly  motionless,  —  like  an  ox  in  the 
shambles,  —  and  for  a  moment  I  fully  realized  the  enormity  of 
the  deed  I  was  committing ;  but  stifling  the  admonitions  of 
conscience,  I  said,  in  hollow  tones, — 

"  Gavruchka,  commend  your  soul  to  God,  for  your  last  hour 
has  come  !  " 

As  I  concluded,  I  dropped  upon  the  back  of  his  neck  a 
tightly-twisted  towel,  which  I  had  previously  dipped  in  ice- cold 
water. 

A  few  seconds  passed  in  unbroken  silence.  As  the  wet  towel 
touched  his  neck,  the  old  man  uttered  such  a  deep,  lugubrious 
groan  that  I  shuddered  with  fear;  but  conquering  the  feeling, 
with  a  loud  laugh,  which  my  companions  echoed,  I  tore  the 
bandage  from  his  eyes. 

Imagine  our  horror  when  we  saw  that  the  unfortunate  man 
had  become  unconscious  !  All  our  efforts  to  restore  him  proving 
fruitless,  we  felt  certain  that  he  was  dead ;  and  the  idea  filled  us 
•  with  such  frantic  terror  that  we  resolved  to  flee. 


EXTRACT  FROM   THE  MOSCOW  CHRONICLE.          289 

My  companions  did  not  know  my  name,  nor  had  they  seen 
my  face.  I  had  given  each  of  them  a  gold  coin,  and  promised 
them  some  fun ;  but  their  sole  object  in  accompanying  me 
having  been  amusement,  they  were  all  the  more  horrified  at 
the  terrible  consequences  of  our  escapade,  and  I  had  very  little 
trouble  in  making  them  solemnly  swear  to  keep  the  affair  a 
secret. 

We  stole  noiselessly  out ;  I  parted  with  my  companions  at  the 
first  street- corner,  and  succeeded  in  re-entering  my  father's 
house  unobserved. 

Then,  and  not  until  then,  did  I  discover  that  the  pretended 
death-warrant  had  been  left  in  the  janitor's  room.  In  my  terror, 
an  infamous  idea  suggested  itself  to  my  mind.  If  the  writing  on 
the  paper  was  recognized  as  that  of  Terentieff,  I  was  saved.  If 
he  had  penned  the  death-warrant,  it  was  only  natural  to  suppose 
that  his  had  been  the  hand  that  carried  it  into  execution. 

You  know  the  rest,  —  at  least,  you  know  that  I  yielded  to  the 
temptation ;  but  you  do  not  know  what  I  have  suffered  during  the 
forty  days  of  my  fellow-student's  imprisonment.  Since  I  met 
your  searching  eyes,  Dmitri,  while  I  was  giving  my  testimony  in 
the  superintendent's  office,  and  read  in  them  the  scorn  and  con- 
tempt I  so  richly  deserved ;  since  I  have  known  that  you  were  con- 
vinced of  my  guilt,  and  that  your  generosity  alone  prevented  you 
from  charging  me  with  my  crime,  —  my  anguish  and  remorse 
have  been  well-nigh  intolerable.  You,  of  course,  must  have  suf- 
fered terribly  while  in  prison,  covered  with  unmerited  disgrace, 
suspected  by  every  one,  and  perhaps  ill-treated  ;  but  if  you  knew 
what  one  suffers  when  one  is  guilty,  you  would  forgive  me.  In- 
deed, I  have  been  so  wretched  that  I  could  almost  forgive 
myself. 

Again  and  again  during  this  trying  time  I  have  been  on  the 
point  of  throwing  myself  at  the  president's  feet  and  confessing 
all ;  but  a  feeling  of  shame  deterred  me. 

19 


290  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Oh,  the  miserable  nights  I  have  passed,  writhing  and  groaning 
under  my  burden  of  guilt  and  cowardice  !  What  would  I  not 
have  given  to  be  able  to  hold  up  my  head  as  you  did  !  And 
when  I  heard  your  friends  Serge  and  Grichine,  and  Platon  and 
even  poor  Porphyre  proclaim  their  faith  in  you,  it  seemed  to  me 
I  was  being  scourged  with  red-hot  irons. 

The  days  dragged  by;  an  incident  occurred  that  at  last  con- 
quered me,  —  an  incident  that  many  persons  might  consider  trivial. 
I  saw  your  half-starved  dog  waiting  for  you  at  the  door  of  your 
prison,  and  the  poor  dumb  brute  shamed  me  with  his  fidelity,  and 
showed  me  what  course  to  pursue. 

I  see  myself  in  my  true  character  now ;  I  realize  the  baseness, 
the  depravity,  the  ignoble  nature  of  the  sentiments  that  have 
always  governed  me. 

I  ask  your  forgiveness,  here,  publicly;  I  know  you  are  too 
generous  not  to  grant  me  your  compassion. 

My  father  signs  this  letter  with  me.  At  my  request,  he  will  see 
that  it  is  delivered  without  delay.  I  leave  Moscow  this  very  hour. 
Perhaps  on  some  distant  battle-field  Heaven  will  grant  me  an 
opportunity  to  retrieve  my  honor,  and  atone  for  my  crime. 

CAPITON  KARLOVTTCH  STRODTMANN. 
Witnesses :  • 

KARL  STRODTMANN, 

PETER  SMALT,  Servant  in  the  family  of  Karl  Strodtmann. 

The  reading  of  this  long  letter  created  the  wildest  ex- 
citement in  the  court-room ;  and  when  the  venerable  judge 
solemnly  declared  T6rentieff  innocent  of  any  connection 
with  the  crime,  the  entire  audience  applauded  vociferously. 

The  presiding  judge  added  a  few  impressive  remarks 
upon  the  folly  of  these  practical  jokes,  which  are  often  so 
appalling  in  their  consequences.  Strodtmann's  punish- 
ment had  been  severe,  but  how  cowardly  and  disgraceful 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  MOSCOW  CHRONICLE.          291 

his  conduct  had  been !  His  fate  should  be  a  warning  to 
the  many  young  men  present. 

Terentieff,  too  deeply  moved  to  speak,  sat  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands  during  the  entire  perusal  of  the  letter. 

When  the  judge  warmly  congratulated  the  young  man,, 
the  applause  burst  out  afresh,  and  he  was  the  recipient  of 
a  genuine  ovation  as  he  was  borne  from  the  court-room  in 
triumph  by  his  classmates.  He  subsequently  left  the 
court  house  in  company  with  his  adopted  sister  and 
illustrious  friend,  Maestro  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky. 

In  behalf  of  the  Press  of  our  city,  we  sincerely  congratu- 
late Dmitri  Fedorovitch  Terentieff  upon  the  fortitude  and 
courage  he  displayed  during  this  trying  ordeal,  and  upon 
the  fortunate  termination  of  the  trial. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

EIGHT  YEARS   AFTERWARD. 

HANGING  to  be  alone  yesterday,  I  set  to  work  to 
hunt  up  a  certain  fugue  by  Father  Bach,  which 
Sacha  unjustly  accuses  me  of  having  imitated  in  a  page 
I  have  just  written.  Wishing  to  convince  her  of  her 
mistake,  I  rummaged  through  a  big  pile  of  dusty  papers, 
and  happened  upon  these  reminiscences,  written  under 
such  painful  circumstances. 

How  vividly  they  recall  bygone  days !  I  live  over 
again  in  fancy  each  of  those  trying  moments.  How  I 
suffered  in  that  grim  old  Moscow  prison !  How  its  very 
walls  seemed  to  whisper  of  iniquity  and  oppression ! 
When  one  is  sixteen,  one  rebels  against  injustice  with 
one's  whole  soul;  one  longs  to  blot  out  such  an  outrage 
upon  humanity;  one  suffers  with  all  who  suffer  here 
below;  but  when  one  is  himself  the  victim,  how  frantic 
one  becomes !  I  remember  well  that  I  regarded  my 
judges,  my  jailers,  and  in  fact  all  mankind,  as  so  many 
monsters.  The  idea  that  a  denial  on  my  part  was  not 
sufficient  to  establish  my  innocence,  made  me  frantic 
with  rage.  It  seemed  to  me  that  people  ought  to  give 
me  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  until  my  guilt  was  proved 
beyond  all  question;  and  I  rebelled  at  the  idea  of  being 
treated  as  a  criminal  when  I  knew  I  was  not  a  criminal. 


EIGHT   YEARS  AFTERWARD.  293 

Sacha  found  me  absorbed  in  the  perusal  of  these  remi- 
niscences; she  glanced  over  them  with  me,  and  when  we 
had  finished  them,  she  said,  — 

"The  narrative  is  incomplete,  Dmitri.  Put  your  musi- 
cal instruments  aside.  I  am  not  going  to  allow  you  to 
touch  them  again  until  you  have  finished  this  story  of  our 
lives.  Come,  here  's  a  good  pen  and  a  quire  of  paper, 
and  our  father's  big  armchair  holds  out  its  arms  invit- 
ingly to  you !  To  work,  to  work !  there  is  not  much  more 
to  say,  but  I  'm  going  to  lock  up  the  organ,  and  hide  your 
violin,  until  you  shall  have  finished  your  task." 

Surrounded  by  my  dear  friends  and  leaning  on  my 
master's  arm,  I  left  the  court  house  like  one  in  a  dream. 
So  many  conflicting  emotions  had  quite  overpowered  me. 
Never  had  I  experienced  such  astonishment  as  when  I 
saw  Sacha  suddenly  appear  in  the  court-room;  but  how 
perfectly  natural  it  seemed  that  I  should  owe  the  vindi- 
cation of  my  honor  to  her!  Then,  too,  Capiton's  letter 
grieved  me  deeply.  His  reproach  to  me  for  having  re- 
ceived his  advances  so  coldly  pierced  me  to  the  heart ! 
How  ardently  I  wished  now  that  I  had  freely  forgiven 
him,  instead  of  making  a  pharisaical  parade  of  my  virtue. 
If  I  had  been  more  willing  to  forget  my  grievances, 
doubtless  all  this  would  never  have  happened.  The  poor 
janitor  was  out  of  danger,  it  is  true,  but  his  entire  re- 
covery was  a  long  way  off.  Having  nearly  lost  his  mem- 
ory, his  position  became  purely  honorary.  A  room  in 
the  Gymnasium  was  allotted  to  him,  and  another  old  sol- 
dier took  possession  of  the  lodge,  where  Gavruchka  some- 
times went  to  quarrel  with  him,  as  he  had  done  with  the 
pupils  in  years  gone  by. 


294  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

As  for  Capiton,  if  I  had  not  held  myself  so  obstinately 
aloof  from  him,  he  would  doubtless  have  become  a  differ- 
ent boy;  this  most  disastrous  practical  joke  might  never 
have  been  played  upon  Gavruchka ;  and  instead  of  being 
compelled  to  exile  himself  in  consequence  of  it,  he  might 
have  become  a  happy  and  honored  member  of  our  little 
circle.  Serge  felt  exactly  as  I  did  about  this  matter,  as 
he  told  me  afterward.  This  passage  in  our  fellow- 
student's  letter  grieved  him  also,  and  he,  too,  could  not 
forgive  himself  for  his  hardness  of  heart.  I  thought  of 
my  father,  who  was  always  so  kind  and  good  and  truly 
charitable,  and  said  to  myself  that  if  he  had  been  in  my 
place,  he  would  have  acted  very  differently. 

And  yet  an  intense  joy  pervaded  my  entire  being.  It 
was  my  dear  Sacha  who  had  saved  me !  How  can  I  de- 
scribe my  feelings  when  she  suddenly  appeared  in  the 
midst  of  that  excited  throng  and  her  pure  voice  was  heard 
speaking  in  her  brother's  defence.  I  can  see  her  still  as 
she  stood  there,  with  a  ray  of  sunshine  playing  around  her 
pretty  head  and  encircling  it  with  a  sort  of  halo.  She 
was  so  young  and  yet  so  composed ;  and  she  spoke  with 
such  manifest  sincerity,  that  she  won  the  respect  of  each 
and  every  person  present,  and  to  me  she  seemed  nothing 
less  than  a  guardian  angel. 

I  made  a  resolution  then  and  there.  Neither  ambition 
nor  self-love  should  be  my  incentive  henceforth.  If  I 
should  ever  again  aspire  to  become  a  distinguished  man, 
it  would  be  to  render  myself  worthy  of  Sacha,  my  dear, 
noble-hearted  little  darling. 

When  I  regained  consciousness,  so  to  speak,  I  found 
myself  in  the  street  with  her  and  Arcadion  Se"monovitch, 
who  had  accompanied  her  to  the  court-room,  though  he 


EIGHT  YEARS  AFTERWARD.       .  295 

had  only  partially  recovered  from  his  illness.  Need  I 
say  that  my  faithful  Porphyre,  stolid  alike  in  prosperity 
and  adversity,  was  also  with  us? 

I  confess  that  I  shrank  from  the  thought  of  again  pre- 
senting myself  before  Mme.  Lebanoff ;  so  my  relief  was 
great  when  Sacha  told  me,  on  our  way  to  the  Boulevard 
Tversko'f,  that  the  princess  was  not  in  Moscow.  My  heart 
felt  much  lighter,  and  it  was  with  sincere  joy  that  I  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  drawing-room.  All  the  furniture  was 
carefully  covered,  and  it  was  a  pleasant-faced,  gray-haired 
woman,  instead  of  those  tall,  insolent  footmen,  who  opened 
the  door  for  us,  —  a  change  that  pleased  me  very  much, 
by  the  way. 

"  Sacha,  my  dear,  I  will  leave  you  with  your  young 
friends  for  a  while,"  remarked  Baron  Bekounine.  "You 
know  how  busy  I  am  just  now,  so  you  must  tell  them  the 
reason  we  have  decided  to  prolong  our  stay  in  Moscow. 
An  revoir,  young  gentlemen !  We  will  dine  together  by 
and  by,  and  drink  a  glass  of  champagne  in  Dmitri's 
honor." 

After  the  old  gentleman's  departure,  we  seated  our- 
selves around  the  big  fire  that  was  blazing  on  the  hearth ; 
my  good  dog  Snap  stretched  himself  out  at  my  feet  with 
a  low  growl  of  profound  satisfaction,  and  we  were  ready 
to  listen. 

"True,  Mitia,  you  know  nothing  about  the  present 
state  of  affairs,"  exclaimed  Sacha.  "Well,  Mme.  Leba- 
noff has  married  again.  She  will  never  return  to  Russia. 
Indeed,  it  is  to  effect  a  sale  of  all  her  property  that  Arca- 
dion  Semonovitch  is  here  now." 

"  Mme.  Lebanoff  has  married  again ! "  I  exclaimed. 
"Then  what  will  become  of  you,  Sacha?" 


296  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"  Of  me  ?  Oh,  I  've  become  what  I  was  before,  —  the 
Sacha  of  former  years,  who  can  boast  of  no  friend  but 
Dmitri." 

"  Explain,  I  beg  of  you ! "  I  cry,  both  alarmed  and 
delighted. 

Porphyre's  eyes  were  stretched  to  their  widest  extent. 

"  Well,  about  a  year  ago  we  went  to  Florence  to  spend 
the  winter,"  began  Sacha.  "A  heavy  cold  kept  me  a 
prisoner  in  my  room  for  about  a  fortnight ;  and  when  I  at 
last  came  downstairs  to  dine  with  Arcadion  Semonovitch 
and  my  godmother,  — you  know  the  princess  always  liked 
me  to  call  her  that,  —  I  found  her  entertaining  a  gentle- 
man I  had  never  seen  before,  but  to  whom  I  instantly 
took  a  strong  dislike. 

"  He  was  a  stout,  dark-complexioned  man,  about  thirty 
years  old,  I  should  say,  and  decked  out  in  more  jewelry 
than  I  had  ever  seen  a  man  wear  before.  He  was  chat- 
ting very  gayly  with  Daria  Alexandrovna;  but  when  I 
entered  the  room,  his  eyes  grew  cold  and  stern,  though  he 
continued  to  smile.  It  may  have  been  only  fancy,  but  it 
seemed  to  me  that  there  was  something  rather  unnatural 
in  the  way  he  displayed  his  teeth,  which  were  as  white 
and  even  as  pearls. 

"'Don't  look  so  astonished,  my  dear  count;  this  is 
only  my  little  Sacha,  the  daughter  I  've  so  often  told  you 
about, '  remarked  the  princess. 

"'Your  daughter?  —  impossible!  Oh,  no;  I  protest, 
my  dear  princess  —  with  that  complexion  and  those  eyes? 
There  is  certainly  nothing  about  this  young  person  to 
remind  one  of  the  beautiful  star  of  the  North  who  has 
come  to  illumine  our  southern  skies  with  her  radiance.' 

"  '  Fi,  fi,    count !  '    exclaimed  the  princess.       '  Sacha, 


EIGHT   YEARS  AFTERWARD.  297 

dear,  come  here.  This  is  Count  Ottavio  Luzzi-Ferrati, 
one  of  my  most  esteemed  friends.  What !  neither  of  you 
offer  to  shake  hands?  Understand  once  for  all  that  I 
absolutely  insist  upon  your  being  the  best  of  friends ! ' 

"  I  extended  my  hand  to  the  count,  though  rather  un- 
graciously, I  fear,  and  he  made  a  movement  as  if  he  were 
about  to  touch  it  with  his  lips,  after  the  Italian  fashion ; 
but  I  hastily  withdrew  it. 

"  'The  young  lady  is  a  little  shy,'  he  said,  with  a  laugh 
that  had  a  false  ring  in  it;  'but  that  doesn't  matter. 
Everything  connected  with  you  is  dear  to  me,  cara 
arnica. ' 

"The  count's  manner  displeased  me  so  much  that  I 
turned  my  back  on  him,  and  picking  up  a  book,  walked 
into  the  adjoining  room,  which  was  separated  from  this 
merely  by  a  portiere ;  but  for  some  inexplicable  reason  I 
found  it  impossible  to  fix  my  attention  on  my  reading. 
Count  Ottavio's  voice  —  though  it  may  have  been  sweet- 
est music  to  the  ears  of  the  fair  Florentines  —  excited  in 
me  a  sort  of  nervous  irritation  that  I  could  not  suppress. 

"  '  She  has  a  rather  depressed,  or  perhaps,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  a  rather  sullen  air, '  remarked  the  count, 
in  subdued  tones.  '  Yes,  sullen  is  exactly  the  word  for  it. 
But  when  a  young  girl  is  not  pretty,  and  has  been  reared 
out  of  charity,  she  ought  to  make  herself  more  agreeable. 
What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  the  poor  child  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  count, '  replied  Mme. 
Lebanoff,  dryly.  '  Besides,  the  opinion  you  have  formed 
of  Sacha  surprises  me.  She  is  generally  considered  a  very 
charming  girl. ' 

"  I  am  only  repeating  what  they  said,  you  understand, 
Mitia,"  laughed  Sacha. 


298  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

"Yes,  yes;  go  on,"  I  cried,  and  Porphyre  signifying 
the  same  desire  by  a  grunt,  Sacha  continued,  - 

"  '  How  can  one  help  being  blind  to  all  save  you,  bright 
star  of  the  North?'  exclaimed  the  count,  sentimentally; 
and  as  he  began  to  praise  the  golden  hair  and  blue  eyes 
of  his  star  of  the  North,  I  was  forgotten. 

"  Of  course  I  was  perfectly  well  aware  that  I  had  been 
reared  out  of  charity,  first  by  your  father  and  you,  Dmitri, 
and  afterwards  by  the  princess;  but  when  I  heard  this 
stranger  state  the  fact  in  such  an  insolent  way  I  trembled 
with  rage  and  indignation.  You  know  by  experience 
that  my  disposition  has  never  been  remarkable  for  its 
sweetness.  There  is  nothing  dove-like  about  me.  My 
temples  throbbed  almost  to  bursting.  I  felt  as  if  I 
should  suffocate.  Making  my  escape  by  another  door,  I 
rushed  up  to  my  own  room,  and  throwing  myself  on  the 
bed,  began  to  weep  bitterly.  Oh,  how  humiliated  and 
wretched  I  felt !  and  not  altogether  on  my  own  account. 
Oh,  no!  I  almost  knew  what  was  going  to  happen,  and 
I  felt  sure  that  this  man  was  not  worthy  of  my  dear 
godmother. 

"  When  the  dinner  hour  came,  I  told  the  maid  that  my 
head  ached  too  badly  for  me  to  eat  anything, —  which  was 
the  truth,  —  and  I  remained  in  my  own  room. 

"  Soon  some  one  rapped  at  my  door.  It  was  Arcadion 
Semonovitch,  who  had  come  to  ask  how  I  felt.  He  must 
have  seen  that  I  had  been  weeping,  for  he  stroked  my 
hair  gently,  murmuring,  'Poor  child!  poor  child!'  so 
tenderly  that  my  tears  burst  forth  afresh. 

"  He  sighed  heavily,  and  seated  himself  by  the  fire  with- 
out saying  a  word,  and  we  spent  the  evening  together  in 
gloomy  silence. 


SACHA  INTRODUCED  TO  COUNT  OTTAVIO. 


EIGHT   YEARS  AFTERWARD.  30 1 

"  Soon  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  a  great  change  was 
at  hand.  The  count  might  almost  be  said  to  be  a  mem- 
ber of  the  household  already,  for  he  was  always  there, 
flattering  the  princess,  paying  her  the  most  assiduous  at- 
tentions, repeating  poetry  to  her,  and  entertaining  her 
with  impromptu  witticisms,  composed  with  care  in  his 
leisure  moments,  it  seemed  to  me.  I  could  not  accus- 
tom myself  to  his  presence,  nor  overcome  the  distrust  and 
aversion  he  inspired  in  me;  neither  could  I  avoid  seeing 
him. 

"  Daria  Alexandrovna  soon  perceived  how  greatly  I  dis- 
liked him,  and  endeavored  both  by  arguments  and  rail- 
lery to  change  the  opinion  I  had  formed  of  him ;  but  she 
soon  discovered  that  this  was  only  a  waste  of  time.  Then 
I  had  the  grief  and  mortification  of  noticing  a  marked 
change  in  her  manner  toward  me.  She  seemed  to  be- 
come less  and  less  fond  of  me,  and  more  and  more  sensi- 
ble of  my  many  faults.  All  this  wounded  me  deeply, 
especially  as  her  altered  manner  was  plainly  due  to  the 
count's  influence.  How  different  my  life  became!  The 
princess,  who  had  formerly  been  so  kind  and  indulgent, 
was  now  petulant  and  hard  to  please;  she  reprimanded 
me  severely  for  the  slightest  fault,  and  was  always  send- 
ing me  to  my  governess,  instead  of  keeping  me  with  her, 
as  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing.  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  had  ceased  to  care  for  me,  and  this 
made  me  so  unhappy  that  I  displeased  her  more  and  more 
by  my  sad  and  dejected  manner. 

"  I  seemed  doomed  to  appear  to  the  worst  possible 
advantage  in  the  count's  presence.  He  overwhelmed  me 
with  protestations  of  friendly  regard,  but  at  the  same 
time  wounded  me  deeply  by  his  insinuations.  He  was 


302  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

constantly  reminding  me  of  Mme.  Lebanoff's  goodness 
and  charity,  and  invariably  spoke  of  her  as  'your  benefac- 
tress,' all  the  while  showing  by  his  manner  that  he  con- 
sidered me  the  most  ungrateful  of  creatures. 

"  As  if  it  were  necessary  for  this  stranger  to  remind  me 
of  what  I  owed  to  my  godmother ! 

"  When  he  spoke  in  this  way,  I  seemed  to  turn  to  ice. 
At  such  times  nothing  on  earth  could  have  induced  me  to 
manifest  the  slightest  affection  for  the  princess ;  and  yet 
I  loved  her  devotedly. 

"At  last,  one  evening  she  called  me  into  her  room. 

"  '  I  wish  to  speak  to  you,  Sacha, '  she  said  gravely. 
'  I  am  about  to  marry.  I  think  you  will  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  guessing  who  the  gentleman  is.  I  am  going  to 
marry  Count  Luzzi-Ferrati. ' 

"  I  could  not  help  bursting  into  tears ;  and  throwing 
myself  passionately  in  her  arms,  I  exclaimed,  — 

"  'Oh,  no,  no,  pray  don't!  Don't,  I  beg  of  you!  He 
is  a  bad  man;  he  is  not  honest,  —  I  know  he  is  not.  He 
does  n't  love  you,  —  I  'm  sure  he  does  not. ' 

"  '  Your  behavior  pains  me  more  than  words  can  ex- 
press, '  said  the  princess,  pushing  me  away.  '  It  is  terri- 
ble to  me  to  see  you  yield  to  this  unworthy  feeling  of 
jealousy.  It  convinces  me  of  the  wisdom  of  my  plans, 
however.  We  must  part,  Sacha,  at  least  for  a  while. 
Ottavio  is  sure  that  the  climate  of  Russia  would  prove 
almost  fatal  to  me,  and  advises  me  to  sell  all  my  prop- 
erty there,  so  we  can  establish  ourselves  permanently  in 
Italy.  I  have  decided  to  do  so.  Arcadion  S^monovitch 
is  going  to  Russia  to  dispose  of  my  property,  and  you  are 
to  accompany  him.  I  hope  when  you  return  that  your 
feelings  will  have  changed.  You  know  I  cannot  form- 


EIGHT   YEARS  AFTERWARD,  303 

ally  adopt  you  before  your  twenty-first  birthday,  and 
then  only  with  Count  Luzzi-Ferrati's  consent.  Con- 
sider all  this,  my  child,  and  try  to  overcome  your  foolish 
prejudice  — ' 

"  '  Daria  Alexandrovna, '  I  interrupted  impetuously,  '  I 
could  once  accept  anything  from  you,  but  that  is  no 
longer  possible.  Thanks  to  you,  I  have  received  an  edu- 
cation that  will  enable  me  to  earn  my  own  living  with 
comparative  ease.  So  far  as  I  myself  am  concerned,  I 
have  no  fears.  It  is  for  you  that  I  feel  so  anxious.  What 
will  become  of  you,  my  dear,  dear  godmother,  when  you 
are  in  this  man's  power?  Give  up  all  thoughts  of  this 
marriage,  I  beseech  you !  I  see  —  I  feel  that  Count 
Luzzi-Ferrati  is  deceiving  you.  It  is  not  you  that  he 
loves,  —  it  is  only  your  fortune.  Tell  him  you  have  lost 
everything,  and  you  will  see. ' 

"  '  Hush,  child,  hush,  you  break  my  heart !  How  can 
you  have  got  these  absurd  ideas  into  your  head  ? '  cried 
the  princess,  weeping  in  her  turn. 

"  'I  don't  know;  but  what  I  say  is  true,  — I  know  it. 
Oh,  pray  listen  to  me,  dear  godmother — ' 

"The  princess  kissed  me  tenderly.  After  sitting, 
apparently  lost  in  thought,  for  a  few  moments,  she  dried 
her  tears. 

"  '  I  have  given  my  word,  Sacha, '  she  said  quietly ;  '  I 
cannot  retract  it.  You  are  mistaken,  I  assure  you.  The 
count  is  an  honorable  man.  I  feel  that  I  can  become  his 
wife  without  any  cause  for  misgivings. ' 

"What  could  I  say?  From  that  time,  the  princess 
treated  me  with  all  her  former  kindness ;  but  it  was  de- 
cided that  we  should  start  for  Russia  without  delay. 
The  installation  of  the  newly  married  pair  in  the  ruined 


304  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

palace  of  the  Luzzi-Ferrati  .would  necessitate  the  ex- 
penditure of  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  M.  Bekounine 
was  deputized  to  raise  the  amount  immediately. 

"So  we  came  to  Moscow.  The  marriage  took  place 
soon  after  our  departure;  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
pass  the  necessary  examination  and  establish  myself  here 
as  a  teacher.  My  poor  Arcadion  Semonovitch  is  equally 
loath  to  reside  with  the  princess  hereafter,  so  he  will  live 
with  me  on  his  small  income,  and  we  shall  soon  leave 
this  house,  which  is  already  sold,  by  the  way,  to  take 
possession  of  a  snug  little  cottage  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
city.  So  we  shall  be  happy  yet,  eh,  Mitia?" 

Sacha  dried  her  eyes  as  she  finished  her  story,  and  I 
could  not  conceal  my  joy  to  find  my  dear  little  friend  as 
affectionate  and  unspoiled  as  in  the  days  of  her  child- 
hood. What  a  busy,  happy  life  we  should  all  lead !  Por- 
phyre  was  delighted ;  and  Sacha,  too,  was  pleased,  in  spite 
of  her  apprehensions  in  regard  to  the  poor  princess. 

Before  a  month  had  elapsed,  the  aged 'baron  and  Sacha 
were  cosily  established  in  a  neat  little  cottage  just  out- 
side the  city  limits.  Sacha,  who  had  been  very  carefully 
educated,  like  most  young  Russian  girls  of  the  better 
class,  had  already  secured  two  or  three  pupils ;  and  when 
our  day's  work  was  done,  how  eagerly  we  hastened  to 
the  cottage  to  spend  a  few  hours  together!  One  might 
almost  have  fancied  that  the  happy  days  of  the  past  had 
returned. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MY   SYMPHONY. 

I  WILL  not  dwell  upon  my  return  to  the  Gymnasium. 
It  was  a  genuine  ovation.  Teachers  and  scholars 
crowded  around  me,  overwhelming  me  with  protestations 
of  friendship  and  sympathy. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  that  everybody  had  not  been 
firmly  convinced  all  the  while  that  not  I,  but  Capiton, 
was  the  real  culprit,  though  I  have  often  wondered  since 
why  they  all  failed  to  say  anything  about  it,  if  that  was 
really  their  opinion. 

Preparations  for  the  final  examination  must  be  begun 
at  once.  I  had  devoted  many  of  the  long  dreary  hours 
of  my  imprisonment  to  mentally  reviewing  nearly  all  I 
knew,  and  I  now  had  the  satisfaction  of  discovering  that 
this  period  of  enforced  idleness,  far  from  being  a  disad- 
vantage, had  really  refreshed  my  memory  and  rendered 
comprehension  less  difficult.  I  would  not  like  to  see 
any  one  subjected  to  a  similar  ordeal,  however,  for  I  had 
spent  such  anxious  and  melancholy  hours  as  few  lads  of 
my  age  are  called  upon  to  endure. 

Six  months  passed,  and  almost  every  day  Porphyre  and 
I  paid  a  visit  to  The  Birches,  as  the  little  settlement 
where  Baron  Bekounine  and  my  dear  Sacha  lived  was 
called.  It  seemed  almost  like  the  country  there.  Mag- 


306  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

nificent  birches  bordered  the  road,  and  a  venerable  tree 
of  the  same  species  shaded  the  little  garden  back  of  the 
house.  The  whole  place  was  fresh  and  neat ;  and  Sacha 
throve  there  like  a  beautiful  flower,  and  the  kind-hearted 
old  baron  seemed  happy  and  contented  in  the  society  and 
-  filial  affection  of  his  youthful  prot/g/e.  Their  only  ser- 
vant was  the  gray-haired  woman  I  had  seen  at  the  city 
house,  and  a  better  and  more  faithful  creature  never 
lived. 

Even  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  had  fallen  a  victim  to 
Sacha' s  charms.  I  took  him  to  The  Birches  one  evening, 
and  though  he  grumbled  terribly  all  the  way,  it  was  not 
long  before  he  expressed  a  desire  to  go  again,  and  it 
soon  became  a  habit  with  him.  Sacha  bade  fair  to  have 
a  very  fine  voice,  and  in  spite  of  his  strictures  on  ama- 
teurs, Master  Nepomuk  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  culti- 
vating it.  He  allowed  her  to  sing  only  classical  music 
of  the  most  severe  kind,  and  rigorously  forbade  the 
slightest  attempt  at  ornamentation;  but  as  Sacha's  taste 
agreed  perfectly  with  that  of  the  old  maestro,  they  had 
no  differences  on  this  score. 

Arcadion  Semonovitch,  who  was  himself  a  great  lover 
of  music,  and  played  the  violoncello  remarkably  well, 
was  delighted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  famous 
composer.  The  two  old  gentlemen  soon  took  a  great 
liking  to  each  other,  and  their  evening  game  of  chess 
became  a  regular  institution. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged  near  the  stove,  we  young 
people  gathered  around  the  centre  table  with  our  books, 
for  that  dread  examination  was  still  looming  grimly  up 
before  us.  Sacha,  too,  was  studying  hard  for  her  exami- 
nation; but,  oh,  how  much  more  easily  she  learned  than 


MY  SYMPHONY.  307 

I  did!  Mme.  Lebanoff,  who  was  very  learned  herself, 
had  given  her  prottgte  a  remarkably  thorough  education, 
and  the  mischievous  girl  laughed  at  my  stupidity  just  as 
heartily  as  in  former  years.  She  learned  with  little  or 
no  effort,  and  seemed  to  understand  everything  with 
marvellous  readiness. 

"  I  sha'n't  have  a  word  to  say  for  myself,  see  if  I 
do!"  I  cried  despairingly  for  the  hundredth  time,  one 
evening  as  we  three  were  sitting  around  the  lamp. 

"Nonsense!"  laughed  Sacha.  "You  mustn't  allow 
yourself  to  be  so  discouraged  as  all  that,  Mitia.  Just 
say  to  yourself  that  you  are  certainly  going  to  get  five l 
in  everything,  whether  or  no. " 

"  How  can  you  ridicule  me  so?  " 

"By  no  means.  Don't  you  see,  if  you  are  deter- 
mined to  get  a  five,  you  will  probably  get  a  two  or  a 
three;  but  if  you  yield  to  despondency  in  advance,  I 
won't  answer  for  the  consequences." 

"  That  is  all  very  well  for  people  who  learn  without 
any  effort,"  I  answered  bitterly;  "but  when  one  is  natu- 
rally stupid,  it's  no  laughing  matter." 

She  did  laugh  heartily,  nevertheless.  As  for  Porphyre, 
it  was  impossible  to  divert  his  attention  when  he  was 
studying.  A  cannon  might  have  been  fired  in  his  ears 
without  disturbing  him;  and  sighing  lugubriously,  I  set 
to  work  again. 

I  had  taken  Serge  to  see  my  friends,  who  were  much 
pleased  with  him;  and  his  parents  having  called  shortly 
afterwards,  both  households  were  soon  on  the  most 
friendly  terms,  and  the  Kratkines  never  seemed  to  tire 
of  singing  my  little  Sacha' s  praises. 

1  Five  is  the  highest  mark  in  Russia. 


308  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

The  concluding  strains  of  my  symphony  had  become 
so  clear  in  my  mind  during  the  last  night  of  my  im- 
prisonment, that  all  I  had  to  do  afterward  was  to  write 
them  down.  The  composition  was  finished  now,  and 
I  at  last  decided,  though  not  without  many  misgivings, 
to  submit  it  to  my  instructor.' 

Entering  his  apartment  one  morning,  all  of  a  tremble, 
I  placed  my  manuscript  on  the  rack  of  the  grand  piano. 

"Master,"  I  said,  trying  my  best  to  steady  my  voice, 
"will  you  please  look  at  this  composition,  and  tell  me 
what  you  think  of  it?" 

"  Hum ! "  responded  Master  Nepomuk,  with  an  omi- 
nous growl. 

Nevertheless,  he  seated  himself  at  the  piano  and  fixed 
his  sharp,  piercing  eyes  on  the  page  I  had  opened  before 
him. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  he  asked  abruptly,  after 
glancing  over  it. 

"A  —  a  friend  of  mine  composed  it,  and  desires  your 
opinion  of  it,"  I  faltered,  hoping  to  divert  his  suspicions 
by  this  transparent  fraud;  for  all  my  courage  had  deserted 
me,  and  I  was  trembling  before  him  like  a  guilty  child. 

After  a  still  more  prolonged  and  sonorous  Hum !  my 
master  placed  his  long,  dry  fingers  on  the  keys  and  began 
the  symphony. 

How  can  I  describe  the  intoxicating  emotions  that 
filled  my  soul  on  hearing  the  melody  I  had  composed  ren- 
dered with  wonderful  skill  by  those  illustrious  hands?  I 
was  sure  of  myself  for  the  first  time.  Yes ;  it  was  beau- 
tiful, it  was  grand,  it  was  true !  These  strains  came  from 
the  very  heart  of  Nature ;  this  wild  and  yet  ethereal  melody 
was  really  what  I  had  hoped.  It  was  redolent  of  the 


MY  SYMPHONY.  309 

bracing,  exhilarating  air  of  the  steppes,  —  of  the  very 
spirit  of  youth  and  liberty.  Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  played 
the  entire  score  through  to  the  end  without  once  pausing. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  turned  back  to  the  first  page 
and  looked  for  the  name  of  the  composer.  I  had  omitted 
to  place  it  there,  intentionally. 

Then  he  turned  his  eagle  eyes  on  me.  I  was  standing 
by  his  side,  blushing  and  paling  by  turns. 

<(  Is  this  yours  ?  "  he  demanded  gravely. 

"Yes,"  I  replied  huskily.  "I  couldn't  help  writing 
it,  — my  head  would  have  burst,  if  I  hadn't.  And  since 
I  have  heard  you  play  it,  it  seems  to  me  it  is  beautiful," 
I  added,  venturing  to  raise  my  head  again. 

Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  sprang  up  in  evident  agitation. 
He  took  several  turns  up  and  down  the  room ;  then  sud- 
denly turning  to  me,  he  wrapped  his  long  arms  around 
me  and  almost  crushed  me  in  his  embrace.  His  cheeks 
as  well  as  his  deep-set  eyes  were  wet  with  tears,  as  he 
placed  his  hand  tenderly  on  my  head. 

"Give  fervent  thanks  to  Heaven,  my  child,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "that  it  has  imbued  you  with  its  sacred  fire; 
for  you  possess  genius,  Dmitri.  Woe  be  unto  you 
if  you  ever  degrade  it  to  base  and  sordid  uses !  Surfer,  if 
need  be, — drag  out  your  life  in  abject  poverty  and  mis- 
ery, —  but  preserve  the  immortal  fire  inviolate.  All  hail 
to  human  genius !  "  he  continued  exultantly.  "  It  -makes 
man  the  peer  of  the  angels  of  light,  — and  your  place  is 
among  these  exalted  ones.  I  am  proud  of  you,  Dmitri. 
I  thank  the  Creator,  who  has  allowed  a  superannuated 
old  man  like  me  to  mould  a  new  prince  of  art.  I  shall 
not  have  lived  in  vain.  Men  will  say  of  me :  '  He  was 
Terentieff's  teacher! '  " 


310  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

On  hearing  these  words,  my  emotion  overpowered  me, 
and  I  implored  him  to  cease.  The  thought  that  he  should 
place  me  above  him  caused  me  such  pain  that  I  impetu- 
ously declared  I  would  destroy  my  work ;  but  he  ordered 
me  to  be  silent. 

"  Hush  !  "  he  said  imperiously.  "  It  shall  never  be  said 
of  me  that  I  was  blind  to  the  talent  of  others.  You  have 
genius.  It  is  no  more  your  fault  than  it  would  be  if  you 
had  been  born  deaf  or  an  idiot.  Come  here,  here  is  a 
page  I  do  not  exactly  understand." 

He  made  me  explain  the  whole  composition  to  him,  line 
by  line,  and  page  by  page.  Oh,  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to 
talk  of  it  without  reserve, —  to  interchange  opinions  freely 
with  this  talented,  liberal-minded  man !  He  objected  to 
some  passages  in  my  music,  finding  in  the  methods  of  many 
well-known  composers  a  hundred  reasons  to  censure  mine ; 
but  when  I  had  explained  my  conception  to  him,  how 
vehemently  he  retracted  his  words  !  I  attempted  to  correct 
one  line  to  which  he  objected,  but  he  checked  me. 

"  I  '11  never  speak  to  you  again  as  long  as  you  live  if  you 
alter  a  note  of  it !  "  he  cried  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  "  Let 
it  remain  as  you  have  written  it ;  or  at  least,  let  it  be  correc- 
ted only  by  yourself,  and  as  your  own  judgment  may 
prompt.  This  music,  recollect,  is  not  Raabzinsky's  music, 
nor  Rubenstein's,  but  Terentieff  's  ;  and  you  should  stand 
ready  to  do  battle  for  it  against  the  whole  world,  if  you 
have  written  it  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  your  own 
soul  and  conscience." 

It  was  thus  he  had  always  acted  himself,  noble,  con- 
scientious artist  that  he  was  ! 

"  You  Ve  kept  your  secret  well,  you  young  rascal,"  he 
growled  a  few  minutes  afterward.  "  So  you  were  afraid  of 


UI   AM  PROUD  OP  YOU,   DMITRI." 


MY  SYMPHONY.  313 

your  old  master !  You  thought,  perhaps,  he  would  compel 
you  to  write  music  of  the  old-fashioned,  antiquated  kind, 
eh,  young  man? " 

"  Say  rather  I  had  no  confidence  in  myself,  or  in  the 
merits  of  my  own  composition." 

"  Simpleton ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  pretended  scorn, 
"  have  you  neither  ear  nor  feeling?  Listen  to  this." 

And  he  played  a  few  pages  of  my  symphony  over  again. 
With  what  delight  I  listened  !  No  encomiums  ever  touched 
me  as  deeply  as  the  gruff,  outspoken  praises  of  my  old 
master. 

"  You  must  let  me  have  this,"  he  said  the  next  day.  "  I 

am  going  to  show  it  to  X [a  famous  conductor  of 

orchestral  concerts].  I  have  not  yet  fallen  so  low  that 
some  few  doors  are  not  open  to  me.  Besides,  you  are 
young, —  that  is  one  thing  in  your  favor.  Perhaps  you  will 
reach  the  summit  of  fame  with  a  single  bound.  It  will  not 
be  with  you,  I  hope,  as  it  has  been  with  me,  poor  old 
owl !  I,  alas !  had  to  toil  and  moil  forty  years  before  my 
talent  was  conceded,  even  to  a  limited  extent.  You  see, 
my  child,  when  fame  comes  so  late  in  life  it  only  makes 
one  still  more  bitter  and  dissatisfied.  You  did  well  not  to 
choose  the  role  of  actor  or  clown  for  the  amusement  of  the 
fashionable  world.  Write  your  chefs  d'oeuvre,  and  let 
others  scrape  away  on  their  violins  before  the  gaping 
crowd.  If  they  know  you  only  by  name,  so  much  the 
better  for  you." 

He  went  out,  taking  my  manuscript  with  him,  but 
returned  soon  afterwards,  highly  indignant.  The  great 
director  had  glanced  over  my  composition.  He  said  it  was 
"  original,"  but  he  absolutely  refused  to  bring  it  before  the 
public.  ''We  have  had  too  much  of  this  kind  of  music 


314  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

already.  It  is  too  long,  too  abstruse,  too  Russian.  Ah, 
if  it  were  only  a  balfet,  now,  or  even  an  operetta !  " 

Nepomuk  Raabzinsky  nearly  knocked  him  down  in  his 
rage  and  disgust.  From  there,  he  rushed  to  the  establish- 
ments of  some  of  the  most  prominent  publishers  of  music  ; 
but  each  and  every  one  of  them  refused  to  issue  my  music 
at  their  own  expense.  My  master  then  despatched  it  to 
St.  Petersburg,  but  in  a  few  months  it  was  returned  as 
unavailable. 

All  this  did  not  trouble  me  very  much,  however,  for  my 
symphony  was  no  sooner  finished  than  another  theme  took 
possession  of  my  mind,  and  I  was  only  waiting  until  my 
examination  was  over  to  begin  work  on  it. 

My  last  year  in  the  First  Class  passed  with  the  swiftness 
of  a  dream. 

The  dread  ordeal  was  at  hand. 

Oh,  what  a  terrible  hour  was  that  in  which  I  presented 
myself  tremblingly  and  despondently  before  my  judges, 
feeling  that  the  little  I  had  acquired  with  so  much  diffi- 
culty was  leaving  me  bit  by  bit !  I  certainly  felt  much 
less  frightened  when  I  sat  on  the  prisoners'  bench  in  the 
crowded  court-room. 

Around  me  was  a  crowd  of  candidates  who  had  failed  in 
the  examination  of  the  previous  year;  and  the  sight  of  their 
terrified  faces  and  trembling  hands  would  have  deprived 
me  of  the  little  presence  of  mind  I  had  left,  if  the  presence 
of  Serge,  who  was  as  calm  and  composed  as  ever,  had  not 
partially  reassured  me. 

At  last  the  students  of  Saint- Vladimir  were  summoned, 
and  we  seated  ourselves  in  our  turn  at  the  long  table, 
behind  which  sat  the  examiners,  clad  in  the  University 
uniform. 


MY  SYMPHONY.  315 

Serge  is  the  first  in  the  line.  He  is  questioned,  and  he 
replies  calmly  and  clearly.  The  faces  of  the  examiners, 
clouded  by  the  stupidity  of  the  unfortunate  youths  who 
immediately  preceded  us,  and  who  are  now  huddled  dis- 
consolately in  a  corner,  become  more  serene,  as  they  listen 
to  his  correct  and  admirably  expressed  answers.  I  shake 
off  the  torpor  that  is  creeping  over  me  sufficiently  to 
rejoice  at  my  friend's  success,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice 
seems  to  brighten  up  my  wits  a  little.  I  resolve  that  I  will 
not  be  a  coward.  I  have  studied  my  best  this  last  year. 
Such  base  pusillanimity  as  this  is  unworthy  of  me. 
Courage  !  Avaunt !  this  grim  fear  of  proving  a  failure,  and 
forward,  Terentieff,  for  the  honor  of  Sitovka ! 

I  scrawl  these  last  few  words  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  pass 
them  to  Porphyre.  Deeply  absorbed  in  the  examination, 
he  imprudently  keeps  the  scrap  of  paper  in  his  hand  some 
time  before  he  reads  it.  One  of  the  examiners  sees  it, 
and  asks  him  for  it.  Awaking  from  his  dream,  Porphyre 
gazes  in  evident  bewilderment  at  the  paper,  and  then 
hands  it  to  the  examiner.  That  gentleman  opens  it  and 
reads  aloud  with  a  mystified  air, — 

"  Courage  !  Forward,  for  the  honor  of  Sitovka  !  " 

Our  schoolmates  laugh  in  their  sleeves;  I  am  covered 
with  confusion.  Neither  Porphyre  nor  the  examiners 
understand  this  outburst  of  enthusiasm. 

At  last  my  turn  comes.  I  plunge  into  the  fray,  and 
reply  with  an  assurance  that  amazes  me.  Courage  is  born 
of  deadly  need,  they  say.  I  know  it,  by  experience.  I 
answer  every  question ;  and  the  examination  is  over  before 
I  have  had  time  to  tremble. 

We  learn  the  result  the  following  day. 


316  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS   IN  RUSSIA. 

Serge  received  5  in  everything. 

Porphyre  received  5  in  Russian  History;  3  in  Foreign 
History ;  4  in  Science ;  I  in  German,  and  2  in  French. 

Grichine  received  4  in  everything. 

My  success  was  truly  marvellous.  I  had  5  even  in 
Greek ;  5  in  French,  and,  Mirabile  dictu !  4  in  Russian 
History. 

Platon  Gregorov  failed  to  pass.  He  only  laughed,  how- 
ever. It  was  all  the  same  to  him.  He  was  about  to  enter 
the  school  of  pages,  and  he  was  thinking  of  nothing  but 
his  gorgeous  new  uniform. 

Luvine  failed  ignominiously  in  everything. 

Podnier  was  acquitting  himself  admirably,  when  some- 
one discovered  in  his  watch,  which  he  was  opening  and 
shutting  in  front  of  him  with  an  abstracted  air,  a  tiny  paper, 
a  positive  ckeftTceuvre  of  patience  and  microscopic  hand- 
writing, containing  the  answers  to  the  principal  questions. 
He  was  refused  admission,  and  debarred  from  future 
examinations,  so  he  can  never  again  present  himself  as  a 
candidate  at  this  University. 

Sacha  passed  a  brilliant  examination.  Her  marks  were 
excellent. 

It  was  over;  we  were  free.  Our  course  at  the  Gym- 
nasium was  ended. 

We  all  dined  with  the  Kratkines  that  evening,  and  I 
accompanied  Sacha  and  Baron  Bekounine  there.  While 
an  elderly  servant-woman  was  assisting  Sacha  to  remove 
her  cloak,  she  suddenly  seized  her  hand,  with  a  piercing 
cry.  Sacha,  greatly  frightened,  inquired  if  she  had  hurt 
her  without  being  aware  of  it.  She  shook  her  head,  and 
pointed  to  the  bracelet  Sacha  always  wears. 


MY  SYMPHONY.  317 

It  is  a  chain  of  gold  and  platinum,  the  gift  of  Mme. 
Lebanoff,  and  attached  to  it  is  the  little  medallion  Sacha 
had  about  her  neck  when  I  found  her  on  the  shore  of 'the 
haunted  lake.  We  all  crowded  around  the  old  woman  to 
question  her,  but  she  only  shook  her  head  and  wept.  At 
last  Mme.  Kratkine  led  her  away,  and  we  entered  the 
drawing-room.  M.  Kratkine  examined  Sacha's  me- 
dallion long  and  carefully;  then  taking  me  aside,  he 
asked  me  a  number  of  questions  about  my  little  Sacha. 
I  told  him  all  I  knew,  and  he  jotted  down  the  date  and  a 
few  notes  in  his  memorandum-book.  Though  the  incident 
created  quite  an  excitement  at  the  time,  nothing  came  of  it, 
and  it  was  soon  forgotten. 

We  shall  be  University  students  soon,  and  wear  the 
famous  uniform  with  blue  revers  and  a  jaunty  little  sword. 
All  three  of  us  have  decided  to  study  law,  though  Porphyre 
has  a  secret  penchant  for  theology.  I  chose  law  because 
Serge  is  going  to  study  it,  and  Porphyre,  I  think,  because 
I  chose  it. 

Our  pleasant  vacation  is  affording  us  the  rest  we  all  need 
after  the  hard  work  of  the  past  year.  My  symphony 
continues  to  be  rejected  everywhere;  but  none  of  my 
friends  seem  to  lose  faith  in  me  on  that  account,  nor  do  I 
lose  faith  in  myself,  though  it  may  sound  presumptuous  in 
me  to  say  so. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    STRANGE    WEDDING-GIFT. CONCLUSION. 

OUR  law  studies  began  as  soon  as  we  entered  the 
University;  and  I  must  confess  that  while  I  was 
endeavoring  to  initiate  myself  into  the  mysteries  of  Rus- 
sian law,  I  often  sighed  heavily  at  the  thought  of  my 
neglected  music,  for  I  could  not  devote  myself  to  it  now, 
as  I  had  done  in  the  past.  I  was  obliged  to  live,  and  also 
to  prepare  myself  to  earn  my  living  in  the  future.  "  Not 
until  my  fortune  is  made,"  I  often  said  to  myself,  "can  I 
allow  myself  time  for  musical  composition, —  for  imbuing 
with  life  all  the  sprightly,  melancholy,  or  weird  fancies 
that  are  continually  haunting  me." 

I  had  selected  for  the  subject  of  the  opera  I  meant  to 
write  some  day  the  legend  of  Sir  Launcelot,  which  I 
found  in  an  old  French  book,  and  which  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  me.  Whenever  I  had  a  few  minutes  to  spare, 
I  seized  pen  and  paper  and  composed  a  few  bars.  My 
symphony  had  given  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble;  but  it 
did  not  take  me  long  to  discover  that  the  composition  of 
an  opera,  with  its  choruses,  its  many  different  r61es,  im- 
portant and  unimportant,  its  orchestral  effects  and  ballet, 
was  a  much  more  difficult  and  laborious  task.  But  with 
what  joy  I  devoted  myself  to  it !  The  great  English  poet 
was  certainly  right  when  he  said:  "The  labor  we  de- 
light in  physics  pain."  When  I  had  an  opportunity  to 


A  STRANGE  WEDDING-GIFT.  319 

thus  indulge  myself,  I  became  completely  oblivious  to 
everything  that  was  going  on  around  me ;  I  should  even 
have  forgotten  to  eat  or  sleep  if  my  faithful  Porphyre 
had  not  brought  me  back  to  the  realities  of  life. 

And  this  reminds  me  that  when  we  put  on  the  toga 
virilis,  or,  in  other  words,  the  dark  blue  uniform  of  the 
University  students,  with  a  cap  rakishly  perched  on  one 
ear,  and  a  sword  about  the  size  of  a  darning  needle,  my 
friend  Porphyre' s  character  underwent  a  sudden  and  com- 
plete transformation. 

I  admit  that  we  all  assumed  a  rather  pompous  air  when 
we  donned  our  uniforms,  and  that  it  was  with  no  little 
secret  pride  I  twirled  my  budding  mustache  and  fingered 
the  handle  of  my  sword  as  I  sallied  forth  from  my  lodg- 
ings ;  but  my  airs  and  graces  were  as  nothing  in  compari- 
son with  those  Porphyre  assumed. 

Do  you  recollect  the  time  when  you  neglected  your 
dress  so  shamefully,  O  Porphyre  Agathonovitch ;  when 
you  entertained  such  an  insurmountable  dread  of  water ; 
when  you  wore  patched  clothing,  and  heavy  boots  that  you 
kept  copiously  greased  with  mutton  tallow?  And  now, 
to  think  of  your  being  suddenly  metamorphosed  into  a 
dude  of  the  most  pronounced  type !  No  tailor  could  sat- 
isfy you  as  to  fit,  or  make  the  garments  that  covered  your 
stalwart  limbs  tight  enough;  and  your  fastidious  god- 
father, proud  of  your  success,  having  allowed  you  a  cer- 
tain amount  per  month  for  your  expenses,  we  strongly 
suspected  you  of  spending  the  greater  part  of  it  in  the 
purchase  of  perfumes,  neckties,  pointed-toed  shoes,  and 
white  gloves,  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  hairdresser,  who 
must  have  extorted  incredible  sums  from  you,  judging 
from  the  many  hours  you  spent  at  his  establishment. 


320  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

We  noticed  too — 

That  Porphyre's  bearing  had  become  exceedingly  airy 
and  affected,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be 
taking  dancing  lessons ; 

That  he  never  appeared  on  the  street  without  a  glass  in 
his  right  eye,  although  his  oldest  friends  had  never  be- 
fore suspected  him  of  being  at  all  near-sighted; 

That  he  had  fallen  into  a  habit  of  star-gazing; 

That  he  was  wont  to  heave  ponderous  sighs  upon  all 
occasions ;  and  that  his  eyes,  probably  from  being  so  often 
directed  heavenward,  had  assumed  a  dreamy  expression 
not  at  all  in  harmony  with  the  dear  fellow's  florid  com- 
plexion and  pug  nose. 

Of  course,  we  marvelled  greatly  at  this  wonderful 
change;  but  when  we  attempted  to  question  him  con- 
cerning the  cause  of  it,  he  maintained  a  sullen  silence, 
and  no  one  ever  succeeded  in  extorting  any  explanation 
from  him. 

The  months  and  years  passed  slowly  but  peacefully  by. 
Our  course  of  study  at  the  University  was  drawing  to  a 
close ;  and  it  would  soon  be  necessary  for  me  to  come  to 
a  final  decision  in  regard  to  a  profession.  The  more  I 
studied  law,  the  less  I  liked  it ;  music  was  my  one  absorb- 
ing passion,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  really  lived  only 
while  I  was  composing.  My  symphony  had  been  on  my 
hands  a  long  time.  Tired  of  offering  it  to  Russian 
publishers,  who  refused  it  with  remarkable  unanimity, 
Maestro  Ne'pomuk, —  who  had  many  friends  in  Paris, — 
finally  decided  to  send  it  there;  and  though  I  was  not 
very  sanguine,  I  made  no  objection.  Everywhere  in 
Russia  we  had  received  the  same  response :  "  The  music 
is  too  abstract,  too  complicated,  too  profound.  The 


A  STRANGE  WEDDING-GIFT.  321 

public  must  be  amused.  If  a  young  mdn  wishes  to  suc- 
ceed, he  must  begin  by  writing  something  light  and  deli- 
cate,—  not  attempt  to  take  people  by  storm,  as  it  were. 
After  he  has  made  his  reputation,  he  can  be  as  eccentric 
and  display  as  much  individuality  as  he  pleases." 

These  criticisms  excited  my  old  master's  intense  indig- 
nation. I  think  he  even  found  it  hard  to  forgive  me  for 
having  written  a  little  book  of  popular  songs,  which  a 
publisher  accepted,  and  which  yielded  me  a  small  sum 
of  money.  Though  I  in  no  wise  transgressed  the  laws 
of  my  beloved  art  in  what  I  wrote,  I  confined  myself  to 
transcribing  the  simple  and  charming  melodies  one  hears 
in  our  fields  and  forests ;  and  they  proved  an  immediate 
success.  The  publisher  having  purchased  my  manuscript 
for  a  stipulated  amount,  I  had  no  share  in  the  profits  he 
subsequently  derived  from  it;  but  I  have  often  been  told, 
and  I  have  since  had  an  opportunity  to  see  for  myself, 
that  my  collection  of  folk-songs  has  a  place  in  almost 
every  Russian  household. 

After  Sacha's  graduation,  she  had  no  difficulty  in  secur- 
ing older  pupils,  and  she  was  now  earning  her  own  living 
bravely, —  loved  and  respected  alike  by  old  and  young, — 
the  acknowledged  queen  of  our  little  circle.  One  June 
evening  —  how  distinctly  I  remember  it!  —  Sacha,  Arca- 
dion  S6monovitch,  Maestro  Nepomuk,  and  I  were  sitting 
in  the  parlor  of  her  little  cottage.  The  two  old  gen- 
tlemen were  enjoying  their  daily  game  of  chess;  and 
Sacha,  seated  at  the  piano,  was  softly  humming  an  air 
from  my  opera,  which  I  had  brought  for  her  to  try. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  quick  ring  of  the  door-bell. 

"  A  telegram  for  Professor  Raabzinsky,  forwarded  from 
his  house,"  said  old  Mikoulinia. 


322  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

The  maestro  hastily  tore  open  the  envelope  and  glanced 
at  the  contents;  then,  with  an  exclamation  of  delight,  he 
handed  it  to  me. 

The  words  that  greeted  my  eager  eyes  were  as  follows : 

PARIS,  June  4. 

Symphony  accepted.  Will  be  performed  at  the  Conservatory 
as  soon  as  the  composer  can  come  to  direct  the  rehearsals. 
Travelling  expenses  paid.  The  symphony  will  be  published 
under  the  supervision  of  the  composer,  immediately  after  the  first 
rendition. 

Our  delight  can  be  imagined,  but  hardly  described. 
In  his  rapture,  the  maestro  rumpled  his  long  hair  more 
wildly  than  ever,  and  even  promised  to  come  in  person 
to  witness  my  triumph, — for  that  it  would  be  a  triumph 
was  almost  certain  now.  I  was  profoundly  happy,  for 
I  had  been  more  deeply  pained  than  I  was  willing  to 
admit  to  see  my  work  rejected  by  every  one,  and  some- 
times I  had  almost  lost  confidence  in  myself;  but 
now,  what  an  enchanting  future  I  saw  opening  before 
me! 

"  It  is  to  you  that  I  am  indebted  for  this  good  for- 
tune, Maestro  Nepomuk,"  I  exclaimed,  seizing  him  by 
the  hand. 

"Nonsense,  nonsense!"  he  replied  gayly;  "I  taught 
you  counterpoint,  it  is  true, —  and  gave  you  many  a 
sound  cuff  in  the  bargain ;  but  the  sacred  fire  —  was  it  I 
who  gave  you  that?  One  can  do  nothing  without  that. 
You  have  it,  my  boy;  I  said  so  the  first  time  I  heard  you 
sing.  But  now  you  have  made  a  good  start,  don't  allow 
yourself  to  loiter  by  the  way;  in  other  words,  don't  think 
to  rest  upon  your  laurels,  or  pander  to  the  depraved  taste 


A  STRANGE   WEDDING-GIFT.  323 

of  the  day.  Never  forget  the  reverence  due  to  your  art, 
Dmitri.  Never  forget  that,  and  set  to  work  as  you  have 
never  worked  before. " 

"When  will  you  start?"  inquired  Arcadion  Semono- 
vitch. 

The  question  startled  me.  What !  leave  Moscow,  leave 
Sacha ! 

Without  pausing  to  answer  our  old  friend's  question, 
I  took  Sacha  by  the  hand  and  led  her  out  into  the  little 
garden. 

"Sacha,  dear  Sacha,"  I  said  eagerly,  "if  I  must  go,  tell 
me  first  that  you  will  consent  to  share  my  fortunes,  and 
become  my  wife, —  the  wife  of  a  poor  musician  who  has 
neither  money  nor  lands  to  offer  you,  but  who  can  accom- 
plish wonders,  it  seems  to  me,  if  he  is  blessed  with 
the  hope  of  having  you  for  his  wife  some  day.  Tell  me, 
does  my  poverty  frighten  you ;  or  will  you  indeed  accept 
me  for  your  husband  ?  " 

"Dmitri,"  she  replied,  with  her  clear,  true  eyes  look- 
ing straight  up  into  mine,  "with  you,  I  fear  nothing.  It 
is  the  thought  of  separation  that  dismays  me;  but  if  I 
know  it  is  only  for  a  short  time,  I  shall  be  resigned,  and 
wait  for  you  courageously,  even  contentedly,  sustained  by 
a  certainty  of  your  return  at  no  distant  day." 

I  was  about  to  imprint  a  tender  kiss  upon  the  brow  of 
my  dear  betrothed  when  the  sound  of  approaching  foot- 
steps made  us  both  turn  our  heads. 

"  So  I  've  found  you  at  last !  "  exclaimed  Porphyre,  for 
it  was  he  who  was  advancing  toward  us.  "  I  could  n't 
imagine  what  had  become  of  you ! " 

I  told  him  that  my  symphony  had  been  accepted  at  last, 
and  that  I  should  soon  be  obliged  to  leave  for  Paris. 


324  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

Poor  old  Porphyre!  It  certainly  must  have  been  his 
evil  genius  that  suddenly  impelled  him  to  seat  himself 
between  us,  and  take  each  of  us  by  the  hand. 

"Listen  to  me,  my  dear  friends,"  he  said,  heaving  a 
portentous  sigh ;  "  I  have  had  a  heavy  load  upon  my  mind 
for  a  long  time,  and  as  you  are  going  away,  Dmitri,  I  can 
be  silent  no  longer.  Are  you  not  both  companions  of  my 
childhood, —  my  only  friends?  Dmitri,  I  can  certainly 
speak  without  restraint  before  you ;  and  when  I  beseech 
Sacha  to  grant  me  her  hand  in  marriage,  I  feel  sure  that 
you  will  not  be  the  one  to  object,  my  brother  —  my  — 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  the  one,  the  very  one.  You 
certainly  make  a  mistake, —  a  very  great  mistake,"  I  re- 
sponded angrily. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Porphyre,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  seraphic  sweetness. 

"This  is  really  too  much,"  I  continued,  deeply  exas- 
perated. 

"  If  I  had  had  the  slightest  suspicion  of  your  prefer- 
ence, my  dear  Porphyre,  I  should  certainly  have  given 
you  some  inkling  of  the  real  facts  of  the  case,"  inter- 
rupted Sacha,  soothingly;  "but  I  had  no  idea  that  you 
had  thus  honored  me,  so  you  will  not  be  angry  with  me, 
I  am  sure,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  already  betrothed. 
We  shall  remain  the  same  good  friends,  I  trust,  as  you 
said  a  few  minutes  ago.  Old  playmates  like  ourselves  do 
not  change  in  their  feelings ;  they  — 

"Who  is  he?  Tell  me  his  name!"  cried  Porphyre, 
frantically. 

"  Come,  come,  Porphyre,  calm  yourself.  Don't  put  on 
such  a  tragical  air,  I  beg  of  you.  Who  could  it  be  but  — 
but  Dmitri!" 


"  IT  IS  TO  MY  DEAR  SACHA  THAT  I  DEDICATE  THESE  RECOL- 
LECTIONS OF  MY  LIFE." 


A  STRANGE  BEDDING-GIFT.  327 

"  You !  "  exclaimed  Porphyre,  "  you !  He !  he !  "  he  re- 
peated, even  more  tragically.  Springing  to  his  feet, 
he  paced  wildly  to  and  fro  a  few  minutes;  then,  after 
having  returned  to  us  and  uttered  in  lugubrious  tones  the 
familiar  words,  "It's  just  my  luck,'"  he  walked  rapidly 
away,  leaving  us  thoroughly  uncomfortable. 

Fortunately,  the  arrival  of  Serge  a  few  minutes  after- 
ward changed  the  current  of  our  thoughts. 

We  told  him  the  good  news;  and  how  cordially  he 
congratulated  us !  How  thoroughly  he  seemed  to  share 
our  happiness !  I  believe  he  even  guessed  the  cause  of 
Sacha's  glowing  cheeks  and  radiant  eyes,  though  he  made 
no  allusion  to  his  suspicions. 

I  left  for  France  the  following  week,  and  two  months 
after  my  arrival  in  Paris  my  symphony  was  performed  at 
the  Conservatory.  What  a  blissful  hour  it  was  for  me 
when  I  heard  this  creation  of  my  brain  rendered  with 
exquisite  skill  before  a  large  and  appreciative  audience! 
I  was  almost  overwhelmed  with  admiration  for  my  own 
work,  and  could  hardly  refrain  from  joining  in  the  en- 
thusiastic applause  that  burst  forth  as  the  last  note  died 
away.  Why  should  I  not  admit  that  it  was  a  great  suc- 
cess ?  The  composer  was  called  for  again  and  again ;  and 
the  next  morning,  I  could  truly  say,  with  Byron,  — 

"  I  woke  and  found  myself  famous." 

Those  were  halcyon  days  that  I  spent  in  that  magnifi- 
cent city,  so  well  adapted  to  the  needs  and  tastes  of  a 
musician  in  many  ways.  I  was  everywhere  welcomed 
with  a  kindness  and  cordiality  that  charmed  me,  and 
made  me  dearly  love  France  and  her  people.  The  publi- 
cation of  my  symphony  was  begun  at  once,  and  every  day 


328  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

I  received  proofs,  which  I  spent  many  delightful  hours  in 
correcting.  Upon  the  title-page  was  engraved  the  name 
of  my  honored  instructor,  to  whom  I  had  dedicated  it ; 
and  I  had  a  copy  printed  on  silver-edged  vellum  for 
Sacha.  With  what  joy  and  pride  I  gazed  at  the  orna- 
mental letters  of  the  title,  "The  Steppes,"  before  send- 
ing it  to  my  dear  betrothed!  With  what  tenderness  I 
inscribed  her  dear  name  on  the  spotless  page! 

Only  a  few  days  more,  and  I  should  see  her  and  my 
beloved  country  again. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  in  Paris,  I  received  a  magnani- 
mous letter  from  Porphyre,  in  which  he  assured  me  that 
he  never  could  or  would  have  consented  to  relinquish 
Sacha  to  any  one  but  me.  He  also  announced  that  his 
elder  brother  having  refused  to  become  a  priest,  he  him- 
self was  about  to  abandon  his  law  studies  forever,  and 
immure  himself  in  a  monastery.  This  gloomy  resolve 
pained  me  a  little;  but  I  consoled  myself  with  the  assur- 
ance that  he  would  soon  think  better  of  it. 

I  returned  to  Moscow,  and  my  marriage  with  Sacha 
took  place  the  following  spring.  Porphyre,  who  seemed 
to  have  entirely  recovered  from  his  disappointment,  and 
Serge  acted  as  groomsmen  on  the  eventful  day. 

When  Sacha,  veiled  in  fleecy  tulle,  and  radiantly  beau- 
tiful in  her  bridal  robes,  entered  the  little  parlor  where  a 
small  party  of  faithful  and  devoted  friends  was  await- 
ing her,  M.  Kratkine  stepped  forward,  and  imprint- 
ing a  fatherly  kiss  on  her  forehead,  presented  her  with  a 
bulky,  official-looking  envelope. 

"This  is  my  wedding  present,  my  dear  children,"  he 
said.  "It  could  not  be  got  ready  any  sooner." 

Sacha  opened  the  envelope  with  trembling  fingers,  for 


A  STRANGE  WEDDING-GIFT.  329 

•  our  friend's  tone  and  manner  strangely  excited  us.  In 
it  she  found  a  sheet  of  parchment  covered  with  official 
stamps  and  seals. 

It  was  a  certificate  of  the  birth  and  baptism  of  Le'fla 
Alexee'fevna  Berezoff,  daughter  of  Alexis  Ivanovitch  Bere"- 
zoff  and  Leila  his  wife,  daughter  of  Kouldja,  a  Tartar 
chief  of  Trans-Caucasia. 

We  were  speechless  with  astonishment. 

"  It  is  the  certificate  of  your  own  birth,  my  dear  child," 
continued  M.  Kratkine.  "  You  are  the  only  child  of 
Alexis  Ivanovitch  Berezoff,  brother  of  Nicholas  Bere- 
zoff, and  the  friend  and  schoolmate  of  Dmitri's  father." 

M.  Kratkine  then  told  us  how  his  attention  had 
been  first  called  to  Sacha's  locket  by  Katia,  an  old  ser- 
vant who  was  now  in  his  employ,  but  who  had  been  in 
her  youth  the  nurse  of  the  Berezoff  boys.  They  were 
twins,  and  resembled  each  other  so  closely  in  their  in- 
fancy, that  their  mother  and  their  nurse  could  distin- 
guish them  only  by  two  lockets  bearing  their  initials, 
which  they  always  wore  around  their  necks.  After  they 
grew  up,  they  continued  to  wear  the  lockets  under  their 
clothing.  M.  Kratkine  had  procured  the  one  belong- 
ing to  Nicholas  Ivanovitch,  and  now  showed  it  to  us. 
It  was  precisely  like  Sacha's  in  every  particular  except 
the  initials,  which  were  N.  I.  B.,  instead  of  A.  I.  B. ,  as 
on  hers. 

For  several  months  M.  Kratkine  had  been  quietly  col- 
lecting the  necessary  proofs  of  my  bride's  parentage, 
but  had  said  nothing  to  us  about  it,  as  he  wished  to  spare 
us  unnecessary  anxiety  and  possible  disappointment  He 
had  discovered,  not  without  great  difficulty,  however,  and 
many  long  and  tedious  researches,  that  Alexis  Ivano- 


330  SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 

vitch  Be're'zoff,  while  travelling  in  Asia,  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  a  Tartar  tribe  that  was  then  at  war  with 
Russia.  The  chief's  daughter  Leila  fell  in  love  with  the 
handsome  Russian,  and  resolved  to  save  him.  She  suc- 
ceeded ;  and  they  fled  together,  and  were  married  shortly 
afterward  by  a  priest  of  the  Greek  Church.  After  a  long 
pursuit,  old  Kouldja,  Leila's  father,  and  her  brothers  suc- 
ceeded in  recapturing  the  fugitives,  who  lived  with  the 
tribe,  closely  guarded,  for  more  than  a  year.  A  little 
daughter  was  born  to  them,  and  received  the  name  of 
Leila  Alexeelevna.  But  the  health  of  Alexis  Ivanovitch, 
always  delicate,  gave  way  during  this  enforced  exile, 
and  shortly  after  his  daughter's  birth  he  died  of  a  slow 
fever. 

The  parents  of  the  young  widow  began  to  tyrannize 
over  her  worse  than  ever,  and  her  life  became  intoler- 
able. When  his  granddaughter  was  about  three  years 
of  age,  old  Kouldja  took  it  into  his  head  to  marry  his 
daughter  to  a  neighboring  chief  and  ally.  Driven  to  des- 
peration, poor  Leila  resolved  to  flee  to  her  husband's 
brother,  of  whom  she  had  often  heard  Alexis  speak  in 
terms  of  the  deepest  affection.  Before  his  death,  her 
husband  had  given  her  the  locket  he  always  wore,  assur- 
ing her  that  his  brother  would  certainly  recognize  it. 
The  young  widow  succeeded  in  making  her  escape,  and 
joined  a  roving  band  of  Cossacks  that  was  about  return- 
ing to  Russia.  Fatigue  and  privations  compelled  her  to 
pause,  in  the  last  stages  of  exhaustion,  on  the  borders  of 
the  steppes,  not  far  from  the  village  of  Sitovka. 

"You  know  the  rest,"  added  M.  Kratkine. 

It  was  impossible  to  doubt  the  truth  of  these  state- 
ments. The  dates  and  all  needful  proofs  were  before  us. 


A  STRANGE  WEDDING-GIFT.  331 

Sacha  was  not  only  the  daughter  of  Alexis  Ivanovitch, 
and  niece  of  the  benefactor  I  had  so  unfortunately  lost 
on  my  arrival  in  Moscow,  but  she  was  also  the  sole  heir 
to  the  large  Berezoff  property. 

We  spend  most  of  our  time  in  Sitovka,  in  the  home  of 
our  childhood,  which  we  have  rebuilt  and  enlarged  so 
that  it  will  easily  accommodate  all  the  dear  friends  who 
were  so  kind  to  us  in  our  hours  of  adversity;  and  it  is 
with  sincere  regret  that  we  leave  it  when  we  are  obliged 
to  go  to  Moscow,  Paris,  or  St.  Petersburg  to  superintend 
the  rendition  of  my  works. 

Our  old  friend  Arcadion  Semonovitch  lives  with  us; 
and  Maestro  Nepomuk  spends  his  summers  under  our 
roof.  He  is  as  eccentric  as  ever ;  but  his  temper  has 
been  greatly  improved  by  association  with  my  Sacha,  for 
so  we  continue  to  call  her  in  memory  of  my  dear  father, 
who  gave  her  that  name. 

Porphyre  very  sensibly  abandoned  the  idea  of  burying 
himself  in  a  monastery;  and  celibacy  not  being  enjoined 
upon  our  priests, —  the  Greek  Church  even  insisting,  as  a 
general  rule,  that  candidates  for  the  priesthood  shall 
marry  before  they  take  orders, —  he  married  the  eldest 
daughter  of  our  old  friend  Tatiana.  His  wife  is  a  real 
Russian  beauty,  with  flaxen  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  rosy 
cheeks ;  and  Porphyre  seems  to  be  very  happy,  and  much 
more  lucky  than  in  former  years. 

Grichine  is  a  prominent  physician  in  Moscow.  He  is 
a  rising  man  in  his  profession ;  but  he  has  not  accumu- 
lated a  fortune,  and  never  will.  He  is  too  generous  to 
the  poor. 

Serge  entered  the  diplomatic  service,  where  his  many 


332 


SCHOOLBOY  DAYS  IN  RUSSIA. 


and  versatile  talents  have  already  gained  him  an  envi- 
able distinction. 

We  met  the  Princess  Lebanoff  during  one  of  our  recent 
visits  to  Paris,  and  the  poor  lady  evinced  the  greatest  de- 
light on  seeing  Sacha  again.  The  count,  her  husband, 
has  proved  himself  well  worthy  of  my  dear  wife's  dis- 
trust. He  is  a  thoroughly  heartless  and  unscrupulous 
man,  who  has  impoverished  his  wife  to  pay  his  gambling 
debts. 

My  faithful  dog  Snap  is  still  alive.  He  is  as  devo- 
ted and  affectionate  as  ever;  but  his  sight  is  dim,  and 
old  age  weighs  heavily  upon  him.  We  cannot  hope  tc 
keep  him  with  us  much  longer. 

I  have  never  heard  anything  more  in  relation  to 
Capiton  Strodtmann. 

It  is  to  my  dear  Sacha,  the  companion  of  my  youth,  the 
inspiration  of  my  manhood,  my  beloved  wife,  that  I  dedi- 
cate these  recollections  of  my  life. 


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